


The Other Kryze Girl

by Tessalia_Grey



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mandalorian Culture, Mandalorian Wars, Slow Burn, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2020-11-22 22:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 108,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20881958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tessalia_Grey/pseuds/Tessalia_Grey
Summary: Bo-Katan Kryze is seventeen when the civil war begins, taking away first her oldest brother and later her father, and making her sister the Duchess of their clan. But their enemies are relentless, and Satine is forced to go into hiding. With Satine on the run and Calvin staying at the home of his fiancée, Bo-Katan is send home to the stronghold on Kalevala. But when the war spreads even to the remotest planets of the system, not even the sprawling woods of Kalevala are safe.





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> We all fantasize about what happened to Satine – and Obi-Wan for that matter – during the infamous year on the run. Inspired by the movie title “The Other Boleyn Girl” (feat. Natalie Portman – it’s a small world…), this story follows Bo-Katan Kryze, her uncle Tobias and her protector Fenn Rau during the same time, trying to shed a light on how two sisters that had once been close could end up on two different sides, both becoming extremist in their views on violence and peace.

_The boy will be safe with us._ Those had been Uncle Anatole’s last words to Father. And now they were all dead. Uncle Anatole just as much as Dorian. Father hasn’t spoken a word all evening. I don’t really blame him. He lost a son and a brother-in-law. Across from me, Calvin is close to tears. He hasn’t eaten a single bite of his dinner; he’s just staring at it. And me? I feel numb, almost detached. I eat reflexively. Not much, but enough to keep my strength. I have a feeling I’ll need it sooner rather than later.

I hear a faint crackle; someone is comming the leader of Father’s protectors, the sound muffled by the helmet he’s wearing. I watch the man’s posture change in surprise, then relax considerably. The exchange seems to have ended, and he takes off his helmet. Brant Torrack is a square jawed man with small dark eyes and dark hair. He walks over to Father’s side, leaning down slightly.

“Sir, your brother Tobias has arrived,” he says in a low voice, almost inaudible for me, though I am sitting right next to Father. Father just nods.

It takes a few moments for Uncle Tobias to get from the landing platforms outside the city to the palace and all the way up to the family dining room. The sight of him entering makes me feel slightly better. Uncle Tobias is a tall man, taller even than Father. He has the high cheekbones and long, straight nose most Kryzes share. Paired with his salt-and-pepper hair, close-cropped beard and sharp, intelligent green eyes, his sight alone commands respect. I can see the guards straitening in their armor as he passes them.

He even seems to jolt Father into action. Father gets up, embracing his brother fiercely.

“I left Kalevala as soon as I heard,” Tobias’s strong, unwavering voice echoes through the hall. “I am so sorry, brother.”

“Thank you,” Father says, and gestures for the table. “Please, sit. Eat, if you like.”

“Thank you,” Tobias replies, dropping onto the chair next to Calvin.

Calvin manages a weak smile at uncle Tobias, who in return pats Calvin on the back. A plate full of food is placed in front of Tobias. He looks around, frowning at the uneaten food of Father and Calvin. He looks at my plate, almost half empty, and smiles at me. It’s a sympathetic smile, not like the pitiful ones I’ve received all evening.

Tobias puts a piece of meat in his mouth, chews, and then looks up at Father.

“Have you called Satine?”

Father nods. “Yes. I’ve dispatched a ship. She will be home in about two days.”

I perk up. This is news to me. Calvin apparently hadn’t known either.

“Satine is coming home?” He sounds almost excited.

“Of course,” Uncle Tobias says, frowning. “She’s your father’s heir now.”

Calvin blinks, the fact only seeming to register with him now. “Oh,” he says. “Right.”

Uncle Tobias keeps looking back and forth between Father and Calvin, the frown on his forehead deepening by the minute. I can’t really blame him. Father and Calvin seem to be so deeply in shock that their minds hardly seem to keep up. Tobias looks at me then, and I can only shrug.

He sighs. “You know what? It’s late. Maybe we should all retire and talk about how to proceed in the morning.”

Calvin looks relieved, and so does Father.

“Yes,” Father says, nodding. “That might be for the best.”

He gets up then, pats Calvin on the shoulder and places a kiss on top of my head. Then he looks at Uncle Tobias.

“Thank you for coming, brother. I need you in this.”

Tobias nods and Father leaves, with Torrack trailing behind him.

Calvin gets up, too. “Are you coming, Bo?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, I’ll keep Uncle Tobias company until he’s finished with dinner.”

“Oh, right,” he says, sounding somewhat dumbfounded again. “Good night, Bo. Uncle Tobias.”

“Good night, kid.”

“Night Cal.”

Calvin leaves, another one of the protectors following him from the room.

###

With Father and Calvin gone, Uncle Tobias heaves a sigh. He looks at me.

“They seem to be very…overwhelmed.”

I nod. “That’s one way to put it.”

Uncle Tobias gives me a very long look, his piercing eyes seeming to look right inside me. I hate the feeling, but I also know that from Tobias’s point of view, I might be the only person in our family besides himself that is not completely out of it.

“It’s hard to get a coherent report on what happened,” he finally says. “Do you know?”

I give him half a shrug. “Only what I know from Dorian himself and have picked up after that. It’s not like anyone’s talking to me or Calvin about it.”

Tobias frowns again. “Alright. Tell me what you know.”

“As you know Mother’s clan has been a part of the New Mandalorian movement for several decades now, but other clans on their planet are not. Those clans have attacked several smaller outposts over the last few weeks. Uncle Anatole had planned to return home to his clan for a few days. They wanted to figure out how to proceed with the growing threat the traditionalists were apparently becoming. Anatole would have liked for Father to come with him, but Father said he had other things to do. Uncle Anatole asked Dorian if he would like to come along and Father agreed. When all the clan’s representatives had gathered, a bomb went off, killing nearly everyone, including Dorian and Anatole.”

Tobias nods. “Yes, that is about the same that I have heard so far. What else?”

“That’s the thing,” I say reluctantly. “There isn’t anything else, really. Father has been quite ever since the news reached us. All I could gather were snippets of conversations between the Protectors or the staff. There is talk of a civil war, but…I don’t know. Father is…frozen. Members of his house got killed. His own son got killed! And he isn’t doing anything!”

The last words come out louder than I planned. I take a deep breath and look down.

“Forgive me, Uncle. That wasn’t very…nice.”

Tobias reaches across the table and pats my hand. It’s a strangely gentle gesture for a man like him.

“No. But I do understand, Bo’ika.” He sighs again before he continues. “Adonai doesn’t want a civil war. The cost of life would be high, and he could not even be sure he would win it. More and more clans of House Kryze are finding the New Mandalorian way of pacifism rather appealing. They still have warriors, but it might be fewer than one would think. If the traditionalists were to close ranks, your father and his allies might find themselves outnumbered and thoroughly outgunned. If Adonai doesn’t tread carefully, he could lose his throne to House Vizsla within months.”

For a few moments, I wonder it that would be such a bad thing. But I push the thought down immediately. I should not wish for my family to lose the power it carefully built up over centuries. Though I do wish that Father would do _something_. But maybe he won’t.

I watch Uncle Tobias finish his dinner. And I am still relieved that he’s here. He had come to assist Father after Mother’s death and I have hope that he’ll bring Father back out of his reverie this time, too.

“I am glad you’re here, Uncle Tobias,” I tell him honestly. “Father _will_ need you.”

He smiles at me, but he looks troubled none the less.

“Yes,” he says, sounding grave. “Yes, I think he will.”

###

Uncle Tobias takes his leave when he has finished eating. If I am somewhat correct, it’s very early morning on Kalevala, and he has technically been up all night. Even Uncle Tobias needs sleep after all.

So I get up, too, making my way to my room with a protector trailing behind me. It’s not that late, but I feel tired enough to sleep. I have kept it together until now, but even _I_ know that the loss of my brother will hit me eventually. And I’d rather turn into a crying heap away from prying eyes.

I get ready for bed, swapping my clothes for something more comfortable for the night. I brush my hair, though it hardly tangles. I’ve kept it at chin length ever since I had a say in how I wanted to wear it, having it cut shorter than Mother had liked. She had worn hers longer; but long hair doesn’t really fit under a helmet unless you put it up in a sort of complicated and uncomfortable way.

I fall into bed. My father rules Mandalore, and I’d be a hypocrite if I said I didn’t care for the comforts that came with it. It’s not that I couldn’t do without them, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy my soft mattress and downy pillows.

With my body quieting down, my thoughts are getting louder. They drift to Dorian, to Father, to Mother.

Mother’s and Father’s marriage had been arranged, as so many within Mandalore’s upper class. It was an attempt to close the growing divide within House Kryze. While Mother’s family followed the New Mandalorian philosophy, Clan Kryze still followed the warrior ways of the traditionalists. It was a signal to all clans in House Kryze that both parties were taken into consideration.

And it had looked promising for many years. Mother stayed with clan Kryze on Kalevala. She gave birth to Dorian first, and to Satine only a year later. And even though the marriage was arranged, they had always seemed happy. As far as Dorian and Satine remembered, the years they still spend on Kalevala were joyful. But then our grandfather had died, and Father had taken up the rule as Duke of Mandalore. To accommodate for the New Mandalorians, he had not taken the title of _Mand’alor_, but kept the title that came with the leadership of Clan Kryze. Calvin and I were born on Mandalore herself, half a year after the beginning of Father’s rule.

All four of us were raised in both the old warrior faith and the New Mandalorian philosophy. All of us learned how to handle different weapons, how to defend ourselves, and how to kill. But we also learned about history, literature, art, diplomacy. Dorian and I had always been more apt at the fighting part, while Satine and Calvin took more to Mother’s ways.

It could have worked. With Dorian next in line he would later rule, keeping up the warrior traditions. All the while, Satine would study diplomacy on Coruscant to later assist Dorian in his rule, being his counselor and enable him to keep the separate faiths of his House under one banner. Calvin should have followed Satine to Coruscant next year. He was maybe even more pacifistic than Satine. While Satine could handle herself in a fight, Calvin _would_ not. He didn’t even really try. So, it was deemed best that he would become a senator on Coruscant, representing Mandalore within the Galactic Senate.

As for me? I don’t think anyone ever truly considered where I would fit into all of this. While my sibling’s lives were planned out, mine somehow wasn’t. And still isn’t. And it bothers me; at least now and then. Then again, I realize that I enjoy more freedoms than any of my siblings ever did. At least my life is my own. At least until now. Who knows what will happen now? With Uncle Tobias helping Father and Satine returning home, things might be different than they have been of late.

Satine. I guess we could hardly be more different; inward and outward. Her convictions have always differed from mine, though we somehow always managed to get along quite well. Satine was always the one who had made sure I was included. With Father, with Dorian, with friends. She was the one to explain things to me, to make sure I understood. She was my rock when Mother died, and Father had been almost unable to fulfil his duties.

She was the one I could talk to about everything. Family matters, school, training, my first crush. Her absence for the past two years has left a gaping hole where her council and friendship usually were.

And yet, there are topics we avoid. Her largely pacifistic views and my more martial nature, for example. Why argue about things that will not change?

And outward? Satine is so _Kryze_ it hurts. Blond hair, blue eyes, high, defined cheekbones, long, straight nose, blue eyes. A classical beauty from one of the oldest clans there is. Her delicate features alone place her within the upper echelons of our society. She may be all Mother on the inside, but she is all Father on the outside.

And me? It took me years to figure out who I look like. My read hair is common enough among the Kryze family. It’s the only common trait Calvin and I share despite being twins. But the rest? It wasn’t until I visited the Kryze stronghold on Kalevala a few years back that I found out where I got my looks from. The woman had died years before I was born after all. My grandmother and namesake, Bo-Katan. Uncle Tobias keeps a painting of her in his study. Painted when she was in her early twenties, still carrying the name Cadera. She had brown hair and green eyes and a nose and mouth just like mine. Apart from the hair, we look more like siblings than I do with my actual ones.

What struck me most were her eyes. Green with yellowish flecks, just like mine. The same eyes uncle Tobias had inherited. Our eyes tend to unnerve people. In the wrong light, the yellowish flecks are dominant, usually scaring the _osik_ out of people. I used to hate it. Until Uncle Tobias said that it might not be the wrong, but just the _right_ light to put fear into your enemies. I liked the idea. I still do.

I sigh, my thoughts drifting back to Father and to Dorian. After Mother’s death four years ago, Father had been much the same as now. Uncle Tobias, Dorian and Satine had shouldered most of his duties. Father had recovered; but ever since then had relied on his eldest son to take up at least some of the responsibilities of ruling.

And now, here in my quiet and dark room, the realization of loss finally hits me, and the tears finally come. I let them out, all of them, streaming down my face and creating wet spots on my pillow. Worse than the tears are the sobs that I cannot and will not stifle. If anyone hears, they leave me be, leaving me to my loss and to my demons, alone.

###

The next two days are remarkably unremarkable. Father is still silent most of the time and spends long hours with Uncle Tobias in his study. Cal and I are left to ourselves. While Cal retreats to the library, I retreat to the training yard. I would normally spar with Dorian, because he’s the only one not treating me like a pampered princess. Or he was. I heave a sigh, looking around for someone to trade at least a few light punches with.

One of the older protectors, Gareth, is walking over to me. He is carrying two training weapons, swords, and tosses one to me. He doesn’t talk much, but he is very perceptive. I think he knows I just want to get through the day. So, for two days, we do sword fighting. I’m not bad with a blade, but Gareth has more experience. I get knocked to the ground fairly often, though I do manage to get him into a tight spot more than once, too.

At night, I am dead tired. Which is good. I fall asleep quickly, which is keeping the feeling of loss at bay. I cry, but it’s just the tears running down my face. I am too exhausted for everything else.

The morning of the third day, Satine finally arrives home. I can hardly contain myself. It’s been more then half a year since the last time I’ve seen her. The news of her arrival reaches me in the yard. I grin at Gareth and drop everything, running full sprint toward the throne room.

Father and Uncle Tobias are already there; Father holding Satine in a tight embrace. When Satine sees me, she entangles herself from Father and holds her arms out and I run to her, crushing into her and holding on to her like a lifeline.

“Satine!” I hear Calvin yell from across the room, and I let go of her reluctantly, letting Calvin have his turn at welcoming her home.

I take a long look at my sister. She is tall and slender, her pale blonde her falling past her pointed chin all the way to her collarbones. The dress she wears falls in thick folds all the way to the floor; the dark blue color setting off her pale blue eyes and rosy skin. She is beautiful. The air about her regal. But her eyes are slightly puffy and her cheeks a bit blotchy, which tells me that she, too, has cried over the loss of our brother.

But Satine is also determined. She had to become like that after Mother’s death, when she suddenly had to shoulder some of Father’s responsibilities and somehow still be there for Cal and me. And though I see that she would like nothing more then to sit down with her family and just talk in private, she takes a deep breath. I can see her steel herself for what must eventually come. She looks at Father and Uncle Tobias.

“If it is alright with you, I’d like to freshen up and eat a small bite. After that, I guess we need to assess the situation and decide how we want to proceed.”

Father just nods, as so often the past few days.

“Very well,” Uncle Tobias says. “An hour? Then we should meet in the study.”

“That should suffice, Uncle.”

Tobias nods and then looks at Cal and me. “Have you two had lunch yet?”

Cal and I shake our heads. “Good. Then we should all eat. Satine can join us when she is done ‘freshening up’”, he says with a wink, but the smile he wears is sympathetic.

###

Though Cal and Father hardly eat, lunch is much more enjoyable than it has been the last couple of days. Satine is recounting some meaningless things from the past semester and the university. People she knows or has newly met. She had the chance to talk to a smart and delightful Nubian politician at some banquet, shocked how young the girl still was. A new art gallery that opened that our cousin Alrich would love to see. It all sounds dull to me. I’m not sure if Satine really finds all these things fascinating, or if she is trying to not bring something up that could lead us back to our current plight.

The kitchen produces uj-cake so delicious even Cal swallows a whole piece. I watch Satine eat. Or better, what and how she eats. She eats a decent portion of the meat and greens but is careful with the cake. I guess that’s the price you have to pay for that figure of hers when you don’t work out anymore.

When everyone is done, Cal and I automatically want to head to the private section of the palace, but Uncle Tobias stops us.

“No, you two should come, too,” he says. “This situation affects the entire family. You need to be briefed anyway.”

Cal looks surprised. I am, too, but I am also relieved that I will finally not be left out.

###

There is a large, round tactical station in Father’s study, and all of us gather around it. Uncle Tobias brings up a holo projection of Vorpa’ya.

“As you know, clan Jennis is almost completely affiliated with the New Mandalorian movement. They share Vorpa’ya with several other clans. Some of them New Mandalorians such as themselves, some honoring our warrior traditions. The traditionalists have attacked several Jennis’ outposts over the last few weeks. Though the outposts were raided and Jennis’ warriors were injured, there were no casualties, which is the reason why it was left to Count Jennis himself to deal with the situation.

“Count Jennis called for a meeting of all the New Mandalorian clans of Vorpa’ya to discuss how they wanted to proceed, since some of the other clans have had similar troubles over the past couple of weeks. As everyone here is aware, the meeting became a trap.”

Uncle Tobias stops talking, his eyes looking at everyone around the table, assessing our reactions. Father swallows, Cal is close to tears again. Satine’s eyes have become like steel. I focus on the red dot on the projection, marking the Jennis’ stronghold. I force myself to breathe evenly. Inside, my temper starts to flare. There is a part of me that wants to board a ship, fly to Vorpa’ya and send the attackers into oblivion. I want to revenge my brother. I want someone to pay the price for his life.

Tobias presses a button, and several red lines appear across the surface of the planet. He continues.

“With most of the New Mandalorian leadership of Vorpa’ya gone, the traditionalists have seized the moment and attacked several of the peaceful clans. Their remaining warriors are fighting back but are greatly outnumbered. For now, they are only lasting because the traditionalists have not yet formed a coherent group. All of them are attacking their neighbors but have not yet ventured further.”

Satine raises an eyebrow. “How long do you think before they decide to band together and take over the planet?”

Tobias shrugs. “Hard to tell. Maybe they don’t even want that. Maybe they just think it’s easy to win territory. We don’t even know yet which of the traditionalist clans planted the bomb. None of them have claimed that ‘victory’ for themselves.”

That’s odd. Maybe… “Maybe it wasn’t even one of them,” I speak my mind, before I am fully aware that I do. Father suddenly fixes me with a hard stare, and I mumble an apology.

But Uncle Tobias perks up at my words. “What makes you think that, Bo-Katan?”

Kriff. This is the first time anyone ever asked me for an opinion in matters of state. Not that I don’t have any. It’s just that usually, no one cares for them.

But I clear my throat and continue.

“Well, though it seems random because the traditionalists are only attacking neighboring clans, a look at the timeline suggest a more concerted effort. The raids all started at roughly the same time, but never two on the same day. Like they took turns. And if they are traditionalists, they would hardly be squeamish about casualties. But it looks like they carefully avoided that so as not to force Father’s hand. A situation like this can and should be dealt with by the local chieftains. And it resulted in exactly that. Everyone gathering in one place. And yet, even now the local traditionalists keep doing what they did before. Why demonstrate such power to then go back to raiding outposts? No, I think there is a bigger plot we don’t see yet. It’s like someone is moving blades around the cu’bikad board and we don’t know who.”

I look around the room while I talk, taking in the various expressions. Father looks troubled, Satine thoughtful, and Cal like he just wants to go back to the library. Uncle Tobias looks at me, the lighting of the room making his eyes look more yellow than green. There is something predatory about them, but there is also approval in them, encouraging me to keep talking until I voiced my opinion.

There are a few moments of silence before Uncle Tobias speaks again.

“I agree with Bo-Katan,” he says to everyone’s surprise, including my own.

But then Satine nods. “Yes, I, too, think that Bo makes a valid point that we shouldn’t dismiss. Fact is, we don’t know enough. We need more intel to better assess the situation.”

“Vorpa’ya is a farming planet,” Tobias continues. “Mostly nerf farms. They export to virtually every planet in the sector. We have already dispatched spies disguised as traders. We should know more within the next hours. Two days at the most, should they run into trouble.”

Everyone nods their agreement.

“As for now,” Father says, “Tobias and I have agreed that we will increase security around the palace and the in city as a whole. As long as we are not sure who is behind…behind the attack…” He takes a deep breath but continues. “As long as we are not sure, we have to assume the worst and act accordingly.”

“More Protectors?” Cal asks.

“Yes,” Tobias confirms. “Adonai has ordered several squadrons back from Concord Dawn. Two will be stationed at outposts outside the city. The others will be stationed here. As long as we don’t need air support, they will be integrated into the palace’s duty roster.”

I sigh quietly. More security usually means less freedom. I guess our movement around he palace will stay the same. Trips to the city will most likely not be possible for a while, at least until all of this is cleared up. Part of me hopes that I am wrong, while I am still certain that my take on the situation might me fairly accurate. Anyway, I am just glad that finally, something is _happening_. Father even spoke, hard as it seemed to be for him. That is progress, and I take even the smallest amount of it if it means we’ll be moving forward.

“Now,” Tobias says, demanding my attention back. “Apart from the attacks; with Dorian gone, we need to figure out how we want to proceed as a family and a clan.”

He looks around the table, fixing all three of us children – not that we are children anymore, but I guess we feel like it under his strict gaze. Then he continues.

“Adonai and I agreed that we would like to talk to each of you alone first. As you are now next in line, we will start with you, Satine.”

Satine nods. “Of course, uncle.”

“The two of you can go for now. Someone will get you when we are ready for you.”

Cal and I nod. “Yes, uncle,” Cal says, and he and I leave the room.

Before I’m out the door, I turn around again, looking at Satine and I catch her eye. She looks burdened already. But she smiles at me none the less, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

###

It takes hours before Satine emerges from Father’s study. Everyone agrees that it might be better to take a break and eat something. After dinner, it’s Cal’s turn, so I retreat to my room. It only takes a few minutes for the chime to go off. It’s Satine. She has changed into something more comfortable to wear and flops down on the bed next to me.

For a while, we don’t say anything. We just lie there, huddled together as we did so many times over the years, especially after Mother’s death. For now, Satine and I seem to have no tears left to shed, so we just listen to the other breathing. After a while, I do get curious, though.

“Wanna talk about it?” I ask, knowing Satine knows what I’m talking about.

“Yes and no,” she answers with a sigh. “It’s a lot to take in. Father and Dorian had a certain way to divide the work between them, but that way will not work for Father and me. The discussion got…heated. I’m afraid my reluctance when it comes to our warrior traditions does not sit well with Father. And with Cal certainly not going in that direction, I’m afraid some of Dorian’s tasks may fall to you at some point.”

I shrug. “I don’t mind,” I tell her honestly. “That would at least mean I no longer get left out of everything.”

Satine grimaces. “I’m sorry, Bo. I know you like to know what’s going on. I told Father the last time I was home that he needs to involve you and Cal more. But I think ever since Mother’s death, somewhere deep down, he’s afraid of loosing all of us. And now Dorian…”

She trails of and swallows hard but keeps going. “He means to protect you, when all he does is make you more vulnerable.”

This is what I like about my sister. She is diplomatic, but honest. I am so glad she’s home. I snuggle closer to her, reveling in her familiar smell and familiar form.

“What do you think they are planning for Cal?” I wonder.

I feel Satine shrug. “I don’t think much will change for him. If possible, he will still go to Coruscant next year and study diplomacy at the university. I still think he should be a senator. He’d represent us well in the Galactic Senate.”

“Sounds like him,” I say.

“The only thing…he’s seventeen now. I think Father and Uncle Tobias would like for him to get married rather sooner than later. In a year or two, maybe.”

I perk my head up. “What?”

“It’s just an idea, Bo.”

“Let’s just hope they are not getting the same idea with me…I’m not getting married this young!”

Satine smiles. “I don’t think so. Honestly. But Cal…I think it would suit him, actually. And as far as I know, he is still pining after Laurea Priest.”

I groan. Laurea Priest went to school with us until last year. Then her family moved back to their home planet because her grandmother and clan chieftain had died, and her father had to take up their clan’s rule. She and Cal had been an item of sorts. I don’t know if they ever got past kissing and groping hands, but their separation had been hard on Cal. As far as I know, they still have a steady correspondence. So who knows? Maybe? Why not?

“Are they playing matchmaker for you, too?” I ask.

“Thank the stars, no,” Satine answers, sounding truly relieved. “We have bigger problems right now. But I guess it’s there, somewhere in the back of their minds. A dynasty needs heirs after all.”

Satine and I both shudder at the thought.

“None the less,” Satine starts again. “Be prepared for a lot of personal questions.”

I groan. I’m not shy and most certainly not a prude, but there are things I sure as hell don’t want to talk about with Father.

Before I can whine about it, the chime goes off again and a protector tells me I’m being summoned to Father’s study.

###

When I enter the study, only Uncle Tobias is there.

“Come in,” he says, sounding friendly but tired.

“Where’s Father?”

Uncle Tobias grimaces. “He is very tired.”

I nod and try to keep my face blank of the disappointment I feel. But Tobias sees it.

“I am sorry, Bo-Katan,” he says, sounding earnest. “If you want, we can postpone this talk until tomorrow.”

I shake my head and sigh. “No, let’s just get over with it, shall we?”

“As you wish. Come, sit down.”

Uncle Tobias flops down in Father’s chair behind the desk. I sit in one of the chairs on this side of the table, trying not to slouch too badly. The chairs are comfortable, and you start to sink lower into them as time goes by. So I try to start as straight as possible.

Tobias grins at me. “Yeah, I thought someone would have bought better chairs by now. It’s been a about thirty years since my father had them installed here. They were terrible then and they did not get better with age.”

I smile, albeit tight-lipped. I want this talk to be over quickly.

“Alright,” Tobias says. “Down to business. Your sister will one day rule, that is a given. As I think is the fact that Calvin can best serve the throne and his family as a senator on Coruscant.”

Tobias pauses. I know he wants to gauge my reaction. But nothing he said is a surprise, nor do I disagree.

“I agree,” I simply say.

He smirks. “And where do you think that leaves you?”

Great, one of _those_ conversations. Then again, this is probably the only chance I’ll get to have a say in the path my life should go down. I take a calming breath, remember what Satine said about her talk with Father, and look Uncle Tobias straight in the face.

“Mandalorian society is structured in a certain way,” I begin. I want to make my reasoning clear to Tobias. “Family has always been the base of our society, a core value all Mandalorians share. Families build clans, and clans are organized into houses. All spearheaded by a sole ruler. Traditionally, that position is fought over. But whenever there are large periods of peace, the rule is inherited, like Father did and Satine will. What people tend to forget is, that even in peaceful times, _becoming_ Mand’alor und _staying_ Mand’alor are two different things. Clever politics is one part of keeping that position. Something Satine will without a doubt excel at. Then there is also loyalty. The people of your house need to follow you. If they don’t, why should anyone else? And part of it is strength. If someone claims the title through victory, people will not contest them for it. At least for some time. If you inherit the position, people still need to believe that you _could_ have won it. That you are still the strongest, and should they contest you, they might very well lose. And this is where your problem truly begins, isn’t it?”

I fix Uncle Tobias with a hard look. Now it’s my turn to gauge his reaction. To my great surprise, he looks rather pleased.

“Oh, my dear Bo-Katan, how I wish you were born sooner,” he says almost wistfully. “But please, continue. Explain to me how this is a problem.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe that Satine would make a good ruler. I believe she will be. She is clever and she can inspire great loyalty in people. I’ve seen it. And don’t get me wrong, Satine has many strengths. In many ways, she is stronger than people give her credit for. There is a part of her that is just as fierce as any Mandalorian. She could be a fearsome warrior. If she wanted to be one.”

Tobias nods. “Yes,” he says. “If she wanted.”

“Which she doesn’t,” I finish for him. “Satine is a pacifist. And as that, her rule will always be contested.”

“Unless…?”

“Unless someone else plays the part of warrior.”

“And that’s yours?”

“Unless _you_ want it, yes, that’s mine.”

Uncle Tobias looks at me, his face impassive at first. But then he gets a sort of wicked grin, only the left corner of his lips pulling up, and the yellow in his eyes becoming dominant again.

“I have another part to play. So it is yours.”

We look at each other for a moment. Then my expression begins to mimic his. I have no idea yet what I have just gotten myself into. But it feels good; it feels right. An though I am somewhat nervous, I am also excited.

“We will have to talk further about what your new role entails,” Tobias says after a while. “But I am confident you’ll excel at it. I will stay in Sundari for a while and help all of you adjust to your new roles.”

I nod. “Thank you, Uncle.”

“You and I will start tomorrow when the protectors from Concord Dawn arrive.”

I smile. “I’d like that.”

Tobias returns my smile.

For a few moments, we just sit there. Then Tobias sighs.

“I’m afraid that was the pleasant part of the conversation. There are some more…personal things I’d like to know.”

“Yes,” I say. “Satine warned me about that. So let’s get it over with.”

Tobias nods again.

“Very well. First off, I guess Satine told you that your father and I think Calvin should get married. How about you? Any interests?”

“No.”

Uncle Tobias raises an eyebrow. “Really? No boys you’re interested in?”

“Not right now.”

“But you were.”

It’s not a question, and I grimace. But I know I won’t get around answering Uncle Tobias, so I take a deep breath and tell him.

“Last year, one of Dorian’s friends, Jonah Kellborn, stayed with us at the palace for several weeks. We…got along rather well.”

“How well?”

“Very well.”

Tobias and I look at each other. If he wants to know about my sex life, he can be just as embarrassed as I am and ask. Tobias lets out a low growl, clearly unsatisfied that I think that two can play the game. But I am not backing down here.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Yes,” I say as matter-of-factly as I possibly can.

“Why did it end?”

I shrug. “He went back home. And before you ask, no, I wasn’t devastated. It wasn’t love, Uncle Tobias. We liked each other, we got along well, we found each other attractive. We had a good time and that was it. Neither of us shed any tears when he left.”

“Does your father know about this?”

“Hell no.”

“Did Dorian know?”

I grimace. “He walked in on us kissing. I guess he did the math right there.”

Tobias made an acknowledging noise. “Any other boyfriends I should be aware of?”

I shake my head. “Not really. A few kisses here and there, some groping hands. Nothing serious.”

“Really?”

“I’m seventeen, uncle! How long do you think that list should be?” I ask, almost outraged.

I’m silently wondering how long Satine’s list was. Or Cal’s. I know Dorian’s was long enough.

Uncle Tobias frowns for a second. “I’m sorry, Bo-Katan,” he says then, his expression morphing into a good-natured smile. “You’ve been acting very grown up these past few days; I actually forgot how young you are.”

I sigh. “It’s fine, Uncle,” I say. After a moment I add: “It’s not like I have a problem with commitment or that I don’t care. It’s just…I never felt like I was in love. Why string a guy along, let someone else get involved like that, only to disappoint them in the end?”

“No,” Uncle Tobias says, “that would only hurt people.”

We are both silent for a while. I can tell Tobias is lost in his own thoughts for a few moments. The last bit I said must have triggered an old memory. But then he blinks a few times and smiles at me.

“Anything else I should know about you?”, he says, sounding perfectly normal.

I consider his question. “Don’t leave me out,” I say, realizing I’m sounding almost desperate. “One day, I might need to be for Satine what you are for Father right now. And I can’t do that if I am not involved. I know I’m not an adult yet, but I am also no longer a child. I want to help. Satine said Father wants to protect me, which is his good right. But she also said that leaving me out makes me more vulnerable and I think she is right. We’re a family, _aliit_. How can I help my family or serve my clan if I am always left on the sidelines?”

Tobias fixes me with his eyes, the light turning them a dark teal green for a second. There is something strangely wistful about the way he looks at me.

“If Ida and I would have been lucky enough to have had children, I hope they would have turned out like you, Bo-Katan,” he says, his voice proud and sad at the same time. “I do not intent to leave you out, my dear. On the contrary.”

He looks at me for a few seconds longer, then his voice is back to normal. “It’s been a long day. We should get some sleep. There is much work before all of us, and we need to get all the rest we can, while we can.”

I nod and get up from my chair. “Thank you, Uncle,” I say sincerely. “Good night.”

“Good night, Bo-Katan.”

I leave the room, and even though I wish for happier circumstances, I am glad Uncle Tobias sees me for who I could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's my first fic in years, so thank you to anyone who is reading!
> 
> I know Calvin comes off a little dumb in this chapter, but I promise I will present him in a better light as the story goes on.
> 
> \--  
Mando'a translations:
> 
> Mand'alor - sole ruler of Mandalore  
osik - the "s"-word  
aliit - family, but with a stronger ring to it


	2. Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Protectors from Concord Dawn arrive on Mandalore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written from Fenn Rau's POW, as will be the next one. He is an integral part of the story anyway and a good way to get an outside view on Bo-Katan and the relationships within the Kryze family.

The white and blue swirl of hyperspace has been the only thing around me for almost an hour now. As the autopilot is doing all the work, the trip to Manda’yaim is actually rather boring. Most of the pilots in my squadron are excited to get off Concord Dawn’s moons for a change. But there are some, like me, who are not excited at all. Not that I’m not glad to see something else for a change. That’s not it. It’s the reason why.

The news of Dorian Kryze’s death have spread like wildfire through the sector. There was some confusion as to the how, but that was cleared up when the commander informed us of our upcoming mission. We have been ordered home by Duke Adonai Kryze himself. The commander said it’s for security reasons, but I guess the scales could tip quickly toward civil war. And then who knows what will happen.

If it comes to a civil war, I would fight. If I wasn’t prepared for that, I would have never accepted the offer to join the Protectors. Concord Dawn sees more action then any other system as it is anyway. Due to the hyperspace routes, we get a lot more smugglers and pirates than the rest of the Mandalore sector. But still, that is not the same as a war.

The proximity warning brings me back from my thoughts and then hyperspace gives way to reveal the yellowish-white planet of Manda’yaim. I have only been on that planet once before, right after I was recruited for the Protectors. I spend half a year here, before they figured I might make a hell of a pilot. I’ve been on Concord Dawn ever since.

My time here wasn’t bad or anything. Training was alright, and there were a lot of people my age, freshly recruited just like me. We were stationed at an outpost just outside the city, which meant that we spend most of our free time _in_ the city. I’m not a city person, truth be told, but it was fun to hang out with the others. I wonder if I get the chance to see any of them.

As we approach the planet, a landing trajectory appears on my instruments, and I follow it down toward the surface. I see two of the squadrons head in separate directions, most likely to some outposts. Skull squadron and the other two squadrons with us are headed for the landing platforms outside Sundari.

The lower we get, the larger the grayish looking bio-dome becomes. Some biologists say that it could be possible for the surface to recover; for the large trenches left by orbital bombardments and the craters to fill with water and for the grass plains to regrow. It’s a nice thought. But then again, us Mando’ade would probably fight over that, too, bombing and burning it all into non-existence again.

Sundari has several hangar bays for Fang Fighters, and we are directed to one of the larger ones, capable of holding all three squadrons and then some. I am directed to a spot near the center. After I touch down, I run through the post-flight checks and diagnostics. When everything comes back clear, I open the hatch and climb out of my cockpit.

I stretch to get rid of the stiffness in my muscles and joints and watch everyone around me do the same. But then the squad leaders call us to order, and we all gather around them in a more or less orderly fashion. On Concord Dawn, nobody really cares for ceremony. We follow orders, of course, but nobody ever asked me to stand in a straight line with other grown people again since I left _this_ place almost two years ago.

I am standing directly behind my squad leader, Captain Lorne Karr, which is affording me a good view of the hangar. Next to our three squadrons from Concord Dawn, I see another squadron of protectors, with their blue, grey and yellow marked fang fighters. There are more fighters to the back, all in the purple and grey of Clan Kryze.

Three figures are approaching our group, all armored, but without helmets. The guy on the right is easily recognizable as Brant Torrack. Tall, dark-haired and square-jawed, clad in the armor of the Protectors. I don’t recognize the man in the middle, but his armor marks him as a Kryze. Said armor is also decorated more richly than it would be if he was any random clan member, so he’s got to be someone higher up the food chain. At first, I wonder if it’s the Duke himself, but I remember the Duke to be blond, and this guy’s hair is brown, turning grey in places. His posture and the way his eyes fix on us also make me realize that this is no one to be trifled with. His presence alone commands respect, and it makes all of us stand just a little straighter than we usually would. On the left is a young woman. I guess she’s about my age, maybe a year younger, but not more. She, too, is wearing Kryze colors. Everything about her screams _warrior_; except the freckles on her cheeks. They’re a strange contrast to the rest of her. But then, who am I to talk.

My musings are interrupted by the man in the middle.

“Protectors,” he says in a strong baritone that easily reaches even the farthest corners of the hanger. “I welcome you on Manda’yaim. I am Tobias Kryze, brother to Duke Adonai.”

I mentally whistle. Tobias Kryze has a reputation to handle difficult situations quietly, discretely and – if necessary – ruthlessly. If he is here, the situation must be worse than most people think.

“This,” Kryze says, pointing to the young woman, “is Bo-Katan Kryze, Duke Adonai’s daughter. We are tasked by the Duke with the security of this city and its inhabitants.”

He looks at his niece, Bo-Katan, and she takes over. “We are aware that you are pilots, and you will have ample opportunity to fly,” she begins, her voice a surprising, slightly raspy alto mixed with a girlish cadence. It would sound odd, if it wouldn’t fit the rest of her so perfectly. “But we also need for additional security on the ground; in the city at large as well as the palace. Commander Torrack will brief you on the details later today.”

She looks around the group, her eyes the same as her uncle’s, sharp and intelligent.

“But first things first,” she says, her voice slightly softer than before. “You will be housed in the Protectors’ training complex next to the palace. You’ll have time to settle in and be able to take a look around the place before Commander Torrack will brief you on your duties during your time in the capital.”

I hear some approving mumble behind me and see many nod their heads.

“Skull Squadron,” Tobias Kryze says, and we all focus our attention back on him. “Your fighters will be stationed in one of the palace’s hangars. You will proceed their immediately. Coordinates and pad numbers will be send directly to your fighters. Night Squadron and Blade Squadron, transports are waiting outside for you to take you to your accommodations.

“We all hope this current situation won’t last long, and that you may return to Concord Dawn to fulfil your regular duties quickly. Until then, we are glad to have you. Dismissed.”

We all straighten up a little further. Tobias and Bo-Katan Kryze turn to leave, but Torrack stays.

“Well, you heard Lord Kryze, dismissed.”

We jolt into action, and I board my fighter again for the short trip to the palace hangars.

###

Troop accommodations in the training center are a lot better than those I am used to. The squad leaders have their own rooms, of course. The rooms the rest of us move into could fit four people in bunkbeds, though all rooms are assigned to only two pilots. I bunk with Alec, a guy from my squad I spend most of my downtime with anyway. We are pleasantly surprised to find that all rooms have their own refresher.

The Duke’s daughter was right. We have time to take a look around; find the mess hall and rec rooms and take a peak into class rooms and watch some young recruits spar in a gym. We even get the chance to eat a bite before Torrack summons us to a large briefing room.

The information he gives us is old news to anyone who listened to Tobias and Bo-Katan Kryze just a few hours ago. Night Squadron and Blade Squadron will take up duties all over the city. Skull Squadron will stay in the palace. We’ll be integrated into the duty rosters.

The only real news is that all of us will be paired with another Protector already on duty, presumably to get up to speed as quickly as possible. We will take up our duties at 0600 sharp tomorrow morning.

###

Alec and I decide to call it a night comparatively early, not wanting to leave a bad impression on our first day. When I come out of the ‘fresher, Alec is already lying on his bed, but he’s not asleep yet. I sit down on my own bunk, waiting for him to talk.

“So,” he starts, “babysitting duty.”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“What? You think anything remotely exciting is going to happen here? This is Sundari. It’s like the most boring place in the entire sector! And we are about to be standing around in some palace corridor for the gods know how many weeks or months, so some pampered princesses can walk there undisturbed…”

I take a deep breath. I have a reputation for being a hot-headed and reckless pilot, but I’m no fool.

“Alec,” I say, trying not to sound too patronizing, “the only reason we are on guard duty for now is because the Duke’s oldest son was killed mere days ago. Along with his uncle on his mother’s side and half the chieftains of Vorpa’ya. Anyone who occasionally turns on the holo net for information knows there are skirmishes all over that planet. Best case, the Duke get’s Vorpa’ya back under control within the next few weeks and we’ll be on our way home to Concord Dawn. Worst case, we find ourselves in a civil war.”

Alec sits up, looking surprised. “You really think that?”

“Yes. That guy today, Tobias Kryze? He’s the guy the Duke sends to deal with situations in which politics have failed. And that guy has a reputation to be terrifyingly affective. The Duke rules peacefully, and his brother does the dirty work.”

“But he said he’s been tasked with the security of the city!” Alec counters.

I shake my head. “Yeah, because he’s going to tell us what’s really being planned behind closed doors…”

“Oh, right…Well, _osik_.”

“You could say that.”

We are silent for a few minutes, and I lie down. Despite the almost lazy day, I feel tired. But Alex apparently isn’t done talking yet.

“Hey, Rau?”

I give a non-committing grunt.

“What d’you think of the princess?”

I sigh in exasperation. “I’m not thinking anything about her, because she’s not for us to think about.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Night, Rau.”

“Night, Alec.”

I turn the lights off and roll over to my side, eyes to the wall. Bo-Katan Kryze. I should do as I told Alec: not think about her. But I have and now I do again. Alec called her a princess, and I guess she is. But I also think that that term doesn’t do her justice. She looked comfortable in her armor, relaxed even. Her voice was strong when she addressed us, her body language open, and her gaze steady. She looked small, but that’s more because of the tall men next to her. I estimate that Tobias Kryze is about two meters tall, placing her at about one eighty. And that is not small at all. She’s not _pretty_, in the common sense of the word, but there is something about her that made my eyes wander to her more than once, though I’m not sure yet what that is. And I doubt I’ll get to the bottom of it right now. So I take a deep breath, and close my eyes.

###

At 0600 sharp, I am picked up in the yard by an older protector named Gareth. He’s a quiet guy, which is fine with me. There are only a few things I hate more than forced conversation. He shows me the way from the training center to the palace proper.

“It takes about fifteen minutes to get from here to the upper levels,” Gareth says. “Keep that in mind. I’ll cover for you once, but Torrack isn’t fond of tardiness, to put it politely.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I answer.

As we move through the still quiet palace, Gareth points out where we are sometimes. Kitchen’s to the left, access to the inner courtyard and training yard to the right, staff toilets. The important things.

“Behind this door begins the private part of the palace. It’s used by the Duke’s family only,” Gareth explains, and pushes the door open. “As long as it is unclear whether Prince Dorian was an intended target of the bombing, the increase in security around the Duke’s family is inevitable.”

We stop in front of a door, and Gareth continues.

“Except Torrack, the other Protectors are usually on a rotating duty roster. But now, some of us are permanently assigned to a family member. I get along best with one of the princesses, and she requested me personally. And since you are stuck with me, you are now also stuck with-“

At that moment, the door opens, and a look right into the unnerving green-yellowish eyes of one Bo-Katan Kryze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Manda'yaim = Mandalore, lit.: home of the Mandalorians  
osik = the s-word


	3. Insight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenn Rau gets a pretty good insight into the Kryze family, Calvin can do more than sulk and Bo attracts unwanted attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set two months after chapter 2.

I am distracted for the fraction of a second…and I find myself flat on my back on the ground with the end of a training staff right in my face. A rather colorful curse in the Condordian dialect slips out, and I wince. But my opponent just chuckles and stretches her hand out to help me up.

Gareth and I have been assigned to protect Bo-Katan Kryze for the past two months now. Turns out that Gareth and I can divide the task between us rather well. Gareth is a quiet man, and he takes over everything that I would find terribly boring. He stands guard during family meals, when she’s in her room or just spending time with her siblings. He says he doesn’t mind, that at sixty-five, that’s about all the action he wants to get into these days.

The more fun things fall to me. Like sparring. The first time I sparred with Bo-Katan, I made a beginner’s mistake. I underestimated her. I went easy on her, only to end up on my ass about ten seconds later. I did not make that mistake twice. Bo-Katan and I are well-matched sparring partners. I am taller and stronger, but she is quicker, more nimble. Who wins and who loses is never predetermined.

Sometimes Gareth steps in though. I tend to get reckless and Bo-Katan can be easily riled up. Gareth makes sure we’re not getting carried away too much.

I guess it’s Bo-Katan’s flaw; to be wound up easily by teasing or taunting words. And maybe it’s my flaw that I enjoy doing that just _a little_ too much. I like how her nose wrinkles and her upper lip curls up when she gets mad. And maybe even how the yellowish flecks in her eyes become dangerously prominent.

But not today. Today, I have trouble focusing, and she is shamelessly using that to her advantage. I don’t blame her, though. I’d do the same. No, today, I am filled with a sense of dread and foreboding that I just can’t quell.

Bo-Katan is getting back into ready position, and I do the same. But before anyone of us can begin their attack, we are both distracted by a commotion on the other side of the training yard.

Calvin Kryze is bounding down the stairs, a big fat grin plastered all over his face. He’s basically running across the yard, Alec lightly jogging behind him, until he almost knocks his twin sister off her feet as he slams into her with a barreling hug.

“She said yes!” his excited voice loud enough for almost the entire yard to hear.

Bo-Katan steadies herself and returns Calvin’s embrace.

“Well, congratulations!”

The entire yard breaks out in cheers. So, Calvin Kryze will marry Laurea Priest. Alec had hinted that the boy was excited about the prospect. I guess he was right.

“Bo,” Calvin said, “can you stop training for today? I really just want to spend some time with you and Satine. Please.”

Bo-Katan’s eyes meet mine for a second, as if I actually have a say in this. So I just shrug.

“Sure, Cal,” she answers, “just let me get everything back where it belongs.”

Bo-Katan and Calvin Kryze may be twins, but they seemed somewhat distant in the two months I’ve been here. That hug right now was the first sign of affection I’ve ever witnessed between them. I asked Gareth about it once, and he had said that they both reacted very differently to their brother’s death, with Calvin drawing back and spending a lot of time alone, while Bo-Katan took to her new responsibilities like a fish to water. She kept herself occupied, so she would not have to think too much about the loss she had suffered.

Bo-Katan and I put our training staffs back on the rack. We pick up our water battles and Bo-Katan slips into a lose-fitting long-sleeved shirt she had discarded sometime during practice. Too bad. I liked that top underneath.

I know I shouldn’t think things like that about her. But it happens. Bo-Katan isn’t _pretty_. That word is somewhere along up there with words like _cute_ or _girly_. And she’s just none of that. And she’s no classical beauty like her older sister, who turns heads wherever she goes, either. No. Bo-Katan Kryze is something far better. She is _interesting_. The contrast between the occasional fierce look in her eyes and her freckles, her slender figure that is so full of strength, her short hair that she still pushes back behind her ear in a subconscious motion.

In my daily observations, I found something that sets her apart from all the other members of her immediate family. Bo-Katan connects to people. She is versatile in a way her siblings, and even her father, are not. Not only can she talk to family, friends and dignitaries. She can also talk to everyone else. Not just polite inquiries after someone’s health or their family or any other form of forced conversation. No, she is part of _normal_ conversations. Maybe because after years in the yard, people see the warrior and woman first, and the princess last. Maybe because her pronunciation lacks the highborn inflictions the rest of her family displays. Or maybe it’s her contagious laugh that leaves you hardly any choice but to just join in.

A laugh that is no echoing around the yard, as she links arms with her brother and lets herself be pulled away by Calvin in the direction of the palace. Gareth, Alec and I fall into step behind them.

“So,” Bo-Katan’s voice drifts over, “when is the big day?”

Calvin shrugs. “We’ll see. You and I are turning eighteen in a few weeks. Laurea in a few months. I guess some time after that.”

“When will you see her?”, Bo asks. “In person, I mean.”

Calvin grins. “They are coming to Sundari. They’ll be here in two days.”

“Nice.”

“Father will officially announce the engagement then. There’ll be a feast.”

Bo-Katan groans. “Can we make that a family dinner?”

“No,” Calvin chuckles. “You’ll have to suffer through a whole evening of polite conversation and boring pacifist company.”

“Hmpf. Good thing I like you, little brother.”

“We are twins, Bo.”

“Yes, but I was out ten minutes earlier than you.”

I tune out the family banter. It’s nice to see them like this, especially since their interactions have been almost frosty for the past weeks. But it’s the other information that I can glean from their conversation that peaks my interest. If the Duke announces the engagement and is throwing a feast, it means that most of his allies will send someone. All clans of his house well be represented as well as other allied clans. What Calvin Kryze called polite conversation and pacifist company may in the end be a disguised war council. After all, the state of Mandalore is more critical than many assume.

The situation on Vorpa’ya is basically unchanged. The traditionalists keep attacking the New Mandalorians, slowly gaining ground. To what goal though is still undetermined. Several spies have been sent to Vorpa’ya, only to return empty-handed. There is also no insight as to who planted the bomb. Fact is: Vorpa’ya is slowly descending into civil war, if it isn’t there already, and the Duke is reluctant to intervene.

Or at least, to intervene by force; which is largely due to Satine and Calvin Kryze. The two pacifists have so far stood their ground and convinced the Duke to at least try and find a diplomatic solution. And while it looks promising with some traditionalists, other have gone so far as to cut communications completely on the course of the last few days.

Tobias and Bo-Katan Kryze on the other hand have tried to get the Duke to send at least _some_ troops to reinforce the New Mandalorians. But the Duke has so far positioned himself against it, not wanting to favor one philosophy over the other. I guess that Tobias and Bo-Katan want to send a little more than just peace-keeping troops to Vorpa’ya, but if they do, they have not said so.

Anyway, it will be interesting to see if a face-to-face meeting with the Duke’s allies will change the tactic on Vorpa’ya.

We follow the twins to Satine’s rooms. This is as far as us Protectors ever come; to the door, but never inside. Satine Kryze opens the doors, and the twins vanish inside her room. Bo-Katan’s laugh is the last thing I hear from inside.

There is a sort of strange _harmonious divide_ in the Kryze family. Satine and Calvin are pacifists. And while Satine seems to be at least somewhat pragmatic, Calvin is adamant in his views. On the other hand, there are Bo-Katan and Tobias; armored and firmly rooted in the old warrior faith. And, somewhat caught in the middle, Duke Adonai, who somehow has to balance the opposing views of his own kin and clan.

And though the clan is divided in its views, the family life itself seems to be hardly affected by it. Maybe because they seem to carefully distinguish between politics and private life? There is no room for politics at the dinner table, or when the siblings spend time together. The conversations always revolve around personal things or stray to general topics. One might go and call that ignorance, but if it works?

###

The feast in honor of Calvin Kryze’s and Laurea Priest’s engagement is surprisingly joyful. The food seems good (people are getting second, and in some cases third, helpings) and a lot of laughter can be heard around the great hall.

Calvin and Laurea seem very happy indeed. They are sitting next to each other, of course, and if you pay attention to it, you can see them lightly touching each other from time to time. Nothing daring, just holding hands or brushing fingers along the other’s arm to get their attention. They smile at each other a lot, the look in their eyes getting dreamier by the minute.

The other Kryzes are mingling with the crowd. The Duke and Satine are talking to someone I can’t place. Bo-Katan and Tobias are talking to Lincoln Ordo. Like the Kryzes, Clan Ordo is for now managing to balance both philosophies, with Lincoln Ordo himself favoring the warrior faith. If they manage to persuade him that a military intervention on Vorpa’ya is necessary, others might follow.

I keep watching Bo-Katan and Tobias Kryze. Partly because it’s my job, partly because they look so strange without armor or training gear. Don’t get me wrong, Tobias Kryze is an imposing figure, with or without armor. And Bo-Katan? Though I know she is one, I’ve never associated the word _princess_ with her, not really. But tonight, I am almost painfully reminded that she is royalty.

She is wearing a dress (much to her chagrin) in the colors of her clan, purple and silvery-gray. The dress itself is almost simple but cut very advantageously. Paired with lapis earrings and flowers in her hair, Bo-Katan Kryze looks regal.

Gareth appears next to me, a small smirk on his face.

“It’s easy to forget with her, isn’t it?” It’s statement, not a question. Damn, that man is observant.

“Yes,” I answer truthfully.

“Her grandmother was like that. A warrior first and highborn second. Bo-Katan Cadera, the mother of Duke Adonai, Tobias and Alanna Kryze. Stars, I was a fool for that woman.”

Gareth sighs. “But I never told her and never did anything about it. And if you know what’s good for you, neither should you.”

“You are assuming things,” I tell him sternly.

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

We are quiet for a moment. Then my curiosity gets the better of me. “Alanna Kryze?”

Gareth nods. “Yes, the Duke’s sister. She’s a very private person. She visits Sundari maybe every two or three years with her son Alrich. She is not a pacifist, but she is no warrior either. She is an artist and seems to be very content to stay on Kalevala with her family, leaving the clan politics to her brothers.”

Gareth cranes his neck. “That’s her son Alrich over there, talking to the Duke and Satine.”

Ah, the guy I couldn’t place. He doesn’t look like a Kryze at all. He has dark brown hair and is skin is darker than that of his mother’s family. He is talking animatedly though, seeming to be soundly engaged in the conversation with his uncle and cousin.

It’s nice to see his place full of people, especially with a festive atmosphere like this evening. If it were only warriors present, I guess the first people would already be drunk and someone would have started a brawl. But with the slight majority of he New Mandalorians, it’s a civil and altogether pleasant evening.

###

Well, even New Mandalorians seem to have a knack for partying. It’s way past midnight, a lot of people are tipsy – if not outright drunk – and there is no end in sight.

Somewhere in the last two hours, the guests have divided themselves by age. Groups of older guests are beleaguering the remains of the banquet, emptying the remaining uj-cake in record time. Middle-aged groups had formed at the tables, drinking wine and reminiscing about their youth. The younger people now occupy one of the larger balconies.

It’s good to be out in the open. I hope the fresh air does some good to the more drunk people.

Bo-Katan is leaning against the balustrade, talking to a guy named Jonah Kellborn. As far as I can gather, he was a friend of Bo-Katan’s deceased brother. He and Bo-Katan seem familiar; they stand close enough for their sides to be touching. Now and then, he leans in to whisper something in her ear, and she smiles or grins, sometimes elbowing him playfully in his ribs.

But as all parties go, somebody eventually says they are tired, and leaves. Satine Kryze looks grateful that someone finally gives up, enabling her to leave, too. Calvin and Laurea leave soon after.

I see Bo-Katan yawn behind a hand and stretch.

“Alright, I’m beat, too,” she says, sounding tired. “I think that’s it for tonight.”

“Yeah,” Jonah Kellborn agrees. “Can I walk you to your room?”

Bo-Katan shrugs. “Sure.”

I see Gareth looking relieved that the night is finally coming to an end. Good thing we don’t have to be on duty by six as usual. We follow Bo-Katan and Jonah Kellborn at some distance, giving them as much privacy as possible.

We hang back when the two arrive at Bo-Katan’s room. Jonah leans down to her, talking quietly enough for us not to hear it. Bo-Katan places a hand on his chest and looks up at him. The look on her face is relaxed, but her body is not. My first instinct is to go over to them, but I don’t. At least not yet. I see Gareth frown next to me.

I watch as Bo-Katan says something to Jonah Kellborn. It’s obviously not what he wanted to hear. He keeps talking, and even though I can’t hear him, I don’t like it.

Bo-Katan shakes her head, gently shoving Jonah Kellborn a few centimeters back, giving her enough space to slither out of the tight space between him and her door. Her eye catches mine for a second. She knows Gareth and I are here, but she wants to handle it herself.

“It’s been a long night, Jonah,” she says, sounding rather neutral, but tired. “We’ll talk tomorrow, alright?”

Jonah looks over at us, too. I see the resignation on his face, but he nods. “Yeah, sure,” he says loud enough for us to hear.

Bo-Katan looks over to us, then back at Jonah Kellborn. “You want one of the Protectors to accompany you to the guest wing?”

“No.” He sighs. For a second, he looks like he might try to talk to her again. But then thinks better of it. “Good night, Bo.”

“Night, Jonah.”

Jonah Kellborn trudges off in our direction and passes us without a word or even a glance. When he’s out the doors that separate the private wing from the rest of the palace, I hear Gareth let out a breath. I do, too.

We walk over to Bo-Katan, who is still standing in front of her room. There is a deep frown on her face.

“You alright, my lady?” Gareth asks.

“What? Oh, yes. Yes, of course.”

Okay, that does not sound alright at all. I raise my eyebrows, but don’t say anything. But she sees my raised eyebrows and sighs.

“Gareth?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Make sure I get a chance to talk to Uncle Tobias first thing in he morning. I…I may have assessed something wrongly. I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Gareth seems to know what she is talking about, and I can guess. There is a history between Bo-Katan Kryze and Jonah Kellborn. One Bo-Katan has left behind, while Jonah Kellborn clearly hasn’t.

Another Protector appears around the corner. Probably the guy who should be standing guard duty in this corridor. He hurries over to us, clearly embarrassed. But Bo-Katan lets him off the hook with a small, albeit tired smile.

“Well,” she says, turning back toward Gareth and me. “It’s been a long night. Good night, Gareth.”

“Good night, my lady.”

Her eyes find mine. “Good night, Rau.”

“Good night.” I almost say _Bo-Katan_, but I stop myself before the name can slip out. She’s the daughter of my ruler, she is _my lady_, and I must remind myself to never, ever, call her anything else.

###

It’s still early, and I don’t have to take my duties back up until midday. The kitchens have somehow redistributed the rest of the banquet to the training center, and I have a very unusual breakfast of _tiingilar_ and _uj’alayi_.

My nose still tingling from the pungent smell of the _tiingilar_ spices, I make my way toward the hangar. I have time to fly this morning, and I want to clock at least two solid hours off the ground.

I cross the large hangar that houses the Duke’s personal shuttles and _kom’rke_. There are several other _kom’rke_ in the hanger, all belonging to important clan leaders that did not have to land their ships outside the city but were allowed to bring them inside. One of them clearly belongs to the Kellborns. I see Jonah Kellborn board. Tobias Kryze is standing at the bottom of the boarding ramp, talking to Lord Kellborn. Kellborn nods curtly, turns around and boards the ship.

Tobias Kryze steps back as the _kom’rk_ launches, hovering in the air as its wings go from vertical to horizontal, and then make for the hangar doors. He watches until the ship is out of sight. He turns around then and sees me.

“_Cabur_,” he addresses me, waving me over.

“My lord?”

“Rau, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re from one of the Concord Dawn squadrons?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nods. “I don’t get to fly a fang fighter as often as I’d like,” he says, sounding almost wistful. “You are taking yours out?”

“Yes, sir. I don’t want to get rusty.”

“May I join you?”

The question surprises me. “Of course.”

Tobias Kryze looks out the hangar doors again. “I wonder if I was that stupid at the age of twenty,” he says with a frown. “I guess I was.”

He looks back at me. “Let me gear up. I’ll meet you in the smaller hangar in fifteen minutes. I’d like to fly in the western reaches if that’s alright with you. They’re uninhabited and I need to shoot at something.”

“Of course, sir.”

Tobias Kryze nods and leaves. Maybe it’s a good thing the Kellborns will already be out of the system in fifteen minutes. I have a feeling they might be at the receiving end of some _friendly_ fire otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this story has been off to a somewhat slow start. But now all characters are introduced, and the story can pick up pace. It's bound to get darker and more violent as we enter the inevitable civil war.
> 
> **Translations**  
tiingilar - Mandalorian casserole made of meat, vegetables, and special spices. (I guess tiingilar is to Mandalorians what _surströmming_ is to the Swedes)  
uj’alayi - uj-cake  
kom'rk(e) - gauntlet(s)  
cabur - protector


	4. Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn who is behind the bombing on Vorpa’ya and that even though Adonai is still in mourning and has been using the title of Duke, he is the Mand’alor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place immediately after the last.

I watch from a balcony as the Kellborn’s ship leaves Sundari. How I could misinterpret Jonah’s intentions so wrongly is still beyond me. Where and when he conjured up the idea that I could marry him…That I would even wanted to?

The talk with Uncle Tobias this morning had been rather unpleasant. No, unpleasant is the wrong word. More like _uncomfortable_. But Tobias had let me talk, and when I was done, he had sighed, but said that it was good I told him and that situations like this are better dealt with quickly.

I guess a part of me had hoped that Tobias would deal with it alone. Which he didn’t, of course. The conversation with Jonah and his father had been _unpleasant_, to say the least. I felt terribly embarrassed, but I guess it was worse for Jonah. Apparently, this had not been something his father had known about. So he had to stand there, having to find an explanation for his actions while being stared down by to of the most intimidating people in the entire Mandalore sector. The words _snap decision_ were used. Which pissed me off, but I held my tongue. I am just glad it’s over.

Last night, my mind came up with several explanations for Jonah’s wayward ideas. The most obvious one after a feast with lots of alcohol would be that he was drunk. And while he had certainly drunk something, he wasn’t outright drunk. He knew what he was doing.

Somewhere in the early hours of the morning, my mind started wondering if Jonah thought our family was desperately seeking allies. And he wouldn’t be all that wrong. There is most certainly a political component to Cal’s engagement. To Father and Uncle, romantic feelings are not necessary in a working marriage. My parents hadn’t been in love when they had gotten married. But Cal and Laurea were already attached to each other. They might have gotten to this point on their own anyway. And even though we are seeking allies, we are not desperate about it. But maybe we seem to be in the eyes of other clans? Stars, I hope not. That would not be good.

The most fitting explanation my mind came up with is also connected to the party. Cal and Laurea are truly happy. You can’t miss it. The way they look at each other, the small touches. They looked so content last night. And maybe that is something Jonah wants, too. The more I think about it, the more our interactions last night come into focus. We, too, were lightly touching most of the time. He is easy to listen to, and I remember smiling up at him a lot. Mix that with some tihaar shots and some thoughts about the last time we saw each other (thoughts that still serve me well during lonely hours), and you can only half blame him for being out of line.

It’s not that I wouldn’t like something like that. But not right now. I’m seventeen, for _kriff_’s sake. Then again, so is Cal. But no. I don’t want to be married now, nor do I want children in the near future. _Haran_, I don’t even know if I want children at all! And with Jonah Kellborn! _Manda’ner_! No, we had a summer of fun and I do have fond memories of that time, but the thought of having him around all the time is not something that I would be looking forward to.

I want to get my mind off this topic. I’d like to spar a bit, but my usual sparring partner is not on duty yet. The thought of Fenn Rau makes me smile. He treated me like a pampered princess at first. Well, for the first minute maybe. After that, not so much. I am thankful for that.

When Father talked about increased security and that we would all have a Protector with us around the crono, the thought alone made me feel caged. I managed to persuade Uncle Tobias to let us at least pick Protectors we liked. I picked Gareth because he’s this quiet but assuring presence. Never obtrusive, but always attentive. Getting Fenn Rau as a double deal was a lucky coincidence.

There is a rustle behind me as my Protector for the night and Gareth trade places. While my nighttime guard, Torbyn, is all service and discipline, my daytime Protectors are not. I like it that way. Gareth comes up next to me, placing his forearms on the banister, looking a little worse for wear after the long night. But the man is past sixty, so I’m not holding it against him.

“You alright?” in inquires, and I know it’s genuine interest.

“I’ll live,” I answer. “It’s been a bit…unpleasant.”

“Yeah, I can readily believe that.”

“They left.”

Gareth nods his head. “Yeah, I heard from Fenn. He saw them leave.”

We are quiet for a few moments. Then I see two fang fighters leave the smaller hanger. One in the colors of the Protectors, one in Kryze colors. I frown. Who’d be flying this morning?

“Bit odd, but that’s your uncle and Rau.”

“What?” How the _haran_ did that happen?

Gareth just chuckles. “I think Rau just wanted to clock some hours. As far as I could gather from his somewhat bewildered report, your uncle kind of ambushed him.”

“Sound about right.”

“I think your uncle wants to shoot at something.”

Well, I can relate to that.

###

Three hours later, and Rau is back on duty. I feel a bit sorry for him. He can’t do anything but stand around while I do assignments for school. We might be on holiday, but that doesn’t mean that our teachers didn’t give an _osik_ load of work. I’m fine if it’s math or Mando’a, but art history? Really? Urgh. Maybe I can get Alrich to help me later? I’m pretty sure he’s got this down. Right now, I just want to distract myself.

“So,” I say, grinning up at Rau. “How was flying with my uncle?”

He cocks his head to one side and raises his eyebrows. “I was wondering when you were going to ask about that.”

“So, spill.”

Rau sighs. “He’s a pretty good pilot.”

“But you are better?”

I know Rau can be cocky. But would he be so if it was a comparison to Uncle Tobias?

Rau shrugs. “I don’t know. I would say that I might fly better, but you uncle definitely shoots better.”

“He really wanted to shoot at something I guess.”

Rau shrugs again. “Yes. But I think it helped.”

“Good.” I am truly relieved. A pissed of Uncle Tobias is a pain in the _shebs_.

I try to go back to my class work, but the specialty of Mandalorian Cubism escapes me. I sigh and push the data bad away. Just as I want to ask Rau if he’d be up for a round in the yard, the library doors open, and Gareth comes in.

“I’m sorry to disturb, my lady, but your Father wishes to see the entire family in his study immediately.”

I exchange a quick look with Rau.

“Sure. Just let me put this back in my room.”

Gareth grimaces. “Actually, my lady, maybe you should just leave it. I think it’s urgent.”

In which case, I don’t need to be told twice. I leave the library with my Protectors on my heels, walking at a brisk pace toward Father’s study. Half way there, Satine and her Protectors join us.

“Do you know what’s going on?” I ask her.

“No. But I have a bad feeling about this.”

###

When we arrive, Uncle Tobias is already there. Calvin arrives at the same time we do.

Father looks pale, almost drained. What the _haran_ happened? It doesn’t surprise me that it’s Uncle Tobias that speaks.

“There have been new developments regarding Vorpa’ya,” he says, sounding grim. His eyes fix on the Protectors in the room. “Needless to say that anything you see or hear in this room is not for anyone else. Commander Torrack will inform the rest of the Protectors later.”

He looks pointedly at Torrack, who nods once.

Uncle Tobias motions for us to gather around the tactical station.

“The following message reached us less than half an hour ago. The timing is…calculated. But watch first.”

He presses a button, and the bluish holo of a man in full armor, including helmet, appears. I don’t recognize the coloring. It’s not from a clan I know. Which doesn’t necessarily mean something. Not all armor is colored due to clan membership, and some sigils or markings are a matter of personal liking and hold no meaning beyond what the bearer sees in them.

This man’s armor seems to be well worn. While the _beskar_ itself shows no sign of abrasion, the coloring has scraped off on the shoulder plates, vambraces and gauntlets. The breast plating and helmet however seems to be newly painted. The armor is largely gray, but the markings on the breast plate are a dark blue. So is most of the helmet.

Uncle Tobias starts the recording. The man’s voice is distorted due to the helmet. It has a slightly familiar ring to it, but I can’t place it. The message is devastating.

“Duke Adonai. For years, we have given you the benefit of the doubt, hoping you would find your way back to the true warrior faith of Mandalore. But you have not. On the contrary, you have drifted further from it. Not even the death of your own son at our hands has led you back to our old ways. Your handling of the situation on Vorpa’ya has shown every True Mandalorian that you are weak and do not deserve to rule.”

The man takes off his helmet, and I recognize Tor Vizsla. Satine gasps and I hear mumbling among the Protectors. Tobias silences them all with a look.

Vizsla continues: “My ancestors have ruled Mandalore, and I will follow them. I will unite Mandalore and restore it to its old glory. In the end, I will sit on the throne that is rightfully mine.”

Tor Vizsla reaches for something. A sword hilt appears in the holo. No, not a sword hilt, the hilt of a saber. Vizsla ignites it, a black blade springing from the hilt with a sizzling sound. Tor’s blue eyes gleam dangerously in the Darksaber’s light.

“Prepare yourself, Adonai. In the end, there is only one truth: Only the strongest shall rule.”

###

The end of the message is met with shocked silence, as the implications of Tor Vizsla’s words slowly sink in. He is not only the chief of his clan, he is also the head of House Vizsla. And he has just declared war against us. Between House Kryze and House Vizsla, more then two thirds of the Mandalorian people are, of now, in a civil war.

I take a moment to look around the room. Father looks pensive, Uncle Tobias grim. Calvin has paled considerably, and the look on Satine’s face is that of pure horror. The looks on the Protector’s faces go from disbelieve, to shock, and to resignation.

And I? I am angry. This could have been prevented if Father had been more decisive. If he had listened to Uncle Tobias and me and shown strength. This is exactly what we warned him about! I want nothing more than to speak my mind to Father, but as I am about to open my mouth, I catch Uncle Tobias’s eye, and he shakes his head almost imperceptivity.

I remember his words from a few weeks ago, when he told me that Father does not want a civil war because it’s not certain the we would win. That we may simply not have enough warriors.

Uncle Tobias opens his mouth to speak, but Father puts a hand on his arm. For a split second, Tobias looks surprised, but then bows his head and steps back. Father draws himself up to his full height. There is a look on his face that I haven’t seen in many years; a look of cold determination.

“As you are all aware,” he begins, “all actions, or the lack thereof, have had one single goal: to avoid open war.”

He looks at Tobias, then at me. Lastly, he looks at Satine and Cal. “But now, open war is upon us whether we want it or not. And we will act accordingly. Our family has gained this position through blood and it seems we must now defend it in the same way.

“As Bo-Katan suspected, the traditionalists on Vorpa’ya may have just been pawns to test us. And we now know who is truly behind this. And even though our spies have not been able to deliver this information to us, we must assume that Vizsla has already prepared his allies, though they are not yet a coherent force.

“Tobias called the timing of the message ‘calculated’. We can assume that Vizsla hopes to dissuade our allies; and to make us look weak in their eyes. And from his point of view, that is the most likely outcome. But I disagree. He chose a moment for this challenge when all our allies are gathered together, gifting us with the unique opportunity to coordinate our own forces much quicker than it would otherwise be possible.”

I see the Protectors nod in agreement out of the corner of my eye. Uncle Tobias looks at Father. I can’t quite interpret the look on his face, but there is something like pride in it.

“How do we proceed, Your Grace?” Torrack asks.

To my surprise, it’s Satine who answers. “As much as I personally am against any war or violence, Tor’s challenge to the throne makes it inevitable. Regardless of how we decide to proceed strategically or tactically, there is one thing we must have the upper hand in.”

“The flow of information,” Calvin says.

“Yes,” Satine agrees. “Are we the only recipients of this message?”

“So far, yes,” Tobias says. “Nothing can be found on the net yet.”

“Good. Then we can use that to our advantage.”

I frown. “But even if we manage to control the flow of information. How are we going to break the news of civil war to our own people? Half the clans in House Kryze are New Mandalorians. How are we going to gain their support in this?”

“Freedom of choice,” Father answers me. “If Vizsla gains the throne, the New Mandalorians will not survive the purge that will follow. If they want a chance to live their lives in peace, they’ll have to support us.”

I nod. Satine grimaces, but she does not contradict Father. Even Cal seems to agree.

Father turns his attention to Torrack. “Commander, you will inform the Protectors of the current situation. We must assume that Sundari will be under attack or under siege sooner rather than later. If we are lucky, we’ll have a few days. If not, we might not have a few hours. Prepare to evacuate the city’s population. Alert all outposts and prepare all fighter squadrons.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Tobias, Sundari is the most likely, but not the only possible target. Make a list of all possible targets and how to defend them as best as possible on short notice. Bo-Katan will assist you.”

I perk up in surprise. Not that I haven’t been listening to Father in a state of awe and wonder for the last few minutes. I guess deep down, Father is still a warrior, though maybe he wishes he doesn’t have to be. But what surprises me is that he doesn’t even hesitate to involve me in this. My anger from a few minutes ago is all but gone. I nod in response.

“Yes, Father.”

“Satine, Calvin, you are right. Information is the key. You are both talented with words. You will draft a speech for me that I can deliver to the public. Not only Sundari, but the whole sector.”

“Of course, Father,” Satine answers, though I can see her go even paler than her usual alabaster complexion.

“I will gather the clan chieftains in the throne room. They need to be informed first.”

Father looks around the room, holding everyone’s gaze for a few seconds.

“You all have your tasks. We will reconvene here in an hour. Dismissed.”

###

An hour and fifteen minutes later, we are standing on the wide balcony overlooking the large central space in front of the palace. The place is packed with people, all waiting for Father to speak.

I wish I could have been present when Father addressed the Chieftains in the throne room. Whatever he had said, it had worked. None of them had left. Instead, they were now all gathered behind us on the balcony, an impressive array of men and women, with and without armor, standing shoulder to shoulder in support of their _Mand’alor_.

And Father does look like a _Mand’alor_. He is wearing his armor, the gray beskar richly decorated with purple. The cape he is wearing is purple and silver, matching his armor. His helmet is tucked under his right arm, the painted jaig eyes visibly to the front.

He raises one hand, and a hush falls over the vast space in front of us. Then Father begins to speak. His voice is strong, resonating off the walls, his deep timbre reaching even the furthest corners of the square.

“People of Mandalore! For many years now, the coexistence of our old traditions and new ideas have let us into a time of prosperity almost unparalleled in our long and proud history. But now, there would be those who feel threatened by the new times we live in and who have found no other answer to their fear than to lash out with violence. As of this day, House Vizsla has declared war on House Kryze, threatening to destroy the world you have helped to create.

Tor Vizsla hopes that we will bow to threats and tyranny, that we will abandon our ways and scatter into the winds. But you can see behind me your chieftains, standing side by side, regardless of faith or philosophy, willing to defend our way of life and the society we have built.

I tell you now what I have told Tor Vizsla in answer to his threats. We will not bend! We will not bow! And we will not fall! _Oya Manda!_”

Father’s speech is short, but it is enough. The crowed in the yard cheers, answering with their own shouts of ‘_Oya Manda!_’, and I am shouting along with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but I had to get "Only the strongest shall rule" in here. It's just so fitting!  
  
**Translations:**  
haran - hell  
Manda'ner! - lit. "Soul of mine!" (We would most likely say "Good God!" or "Jesus Christ!")  
beskar - Mandalorian iron  
Mand'alor - sole ruler of Mandalore  
Oya Manda! - Expression of Mandalorian solidarity and perpetuity: emotional and assertive


	5. First Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War has come to Sundari.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the students I teach at school are as old as Bo-Katan in this story. They are seventeen, eighteen years young. I try to image how they would react in Bo’s place. I also teach students who have seen war. I hope my own children never have to.

Eight hours. That is how much time we had to prepare. It is barely enough. Most civilians made it to one of the shelters, though. But some are still on the streets, trying to reach safety while blaster fire is raining down on them from the sky.

For now, we seem to be able to hold the city; not to a small part thanks to the warriors of our allies. But Uncle Tobias is edgy, saying we need to better fortify the palace, because Vizsla will try to get inside no matter what. So the Protectors are all over the place, sealing doorways, building blockades, and carrying laser cannons up on balconies. It falls to Tobias and me to oversee preparations.

Lorne Karr has taken Skull Squadron out, their fang fighters small enough to maneuver through the city. They are flying run after run over enemy troops. After having Rau almost constantly within a few feet of me for the last two months, it’s strange to not have him around. I hope nothing happens to him; I’ve gotten used to him.

Father is constantly talking to one or more of the chieftains. They are planning ahead. They have to; it’s far from certain that this will end quickly. There are enough planets that are inhabited by members of House Kryze as well as House Vizsla. This war may spill to other systems in the sector before one side can gain the upper hand.

Uncle Tobias and I are standing in the yard as Brant Torrack comes walking up to us at a brisk pace.

“My Lord,” he calls out.

“Commander?”

“My Lord, there are reports from several Protectors that enemy warriors went into the sewage system. But all Protectors in the city are already engaged. I would like to take some of the Protectors from the palace to investigate.”

Uncle Tobias frowns, but then nods. “That sounds sensible. Take five Protectors, Commander. Bo-Katan and I will accompany you.”

I look at Uncle, almost astonished. The excitement is rising up inside me. I was sure I was going to stay inside the palace, protected behind high walls and durasteel doors.

Torrack also looks at Uncle, then at me. He surveys me with a long, hard look; but he seems to find what he is looking for.

“Very well, my Lord,” he answers, bowing his head slightly. “I’ll get my men and meet you at the service entrance two on sub-level six.”

He turns and leaves, his long strides carrying him across the yard in a matter of seconds.

“Check your blasters, Bo-Katan. Make sure they are working properly. I know you know how to use them, and if you need to, you cannot hesitate,” Tobias says, giving me a sideways look. “Hesitation will kill you or the people with you, if not both.”

I nod. “I understand, Uncle.”

“Good. Bring a helmet, you’ll be thankful for its air filters.”

###

A few minutes later, and Uncle Tobias and I are meeting up with Torrack and the Protectors. It’s not that I’ve never been to the lower levels of the palace, but I’ve never used them to get out of the palace undetected.

Sub-level six is as deep as the palace goes. Or so I thought. Torrack punches a combination into a key pad, opening a durasteel door which is only labeled with a number combination, 06-14-02.

“Sub-level six, section fourteen, door two,” I hear Gareth say through my helmet’s communication system. “The code is 11-13-41. Remember it.”

I nod my head.

Uncles Tobias looks at our little group.

“Remember,” he says, “the sewage system of the city is vast. We will only look around in the vicinity of the palace, placing motion sensors as we go. Once we hit the dome, we will split in three groups. Torrack and Shynn, Breck and Nayca, and Rant, Bo-Katan and myself. Keep channel five open at all times. Understood?”

Everyone mutters “Yes, Sir”.

Behind the door are stairs. We walk them down in a single file, with Torrack in front and Nayca bringing up the rear. I’m placed safely in the middle between Uncle Tobias and Gareth. The descent takes longer then I expected. The wall is periodically labeled with the levels we are passing; 0-7, 0-8, 0-9. We finally arrive at the bottom at sub-level 12.

The lighting in the corridor we are walking down now is dim, and it would be quite dark without the additional light our flashlights are providing.

A few more meters, and I can hear a faint rush as water is moving through the sewage system. The tunnel we are in comes to a rather sudden end. We come out on a ledge, overlooking a large pool of murky water. Torrack moves his light around the dome-shaped structure we’re in. There are three exits, all connected to our tunnel via a durasteel walkway.

“Torrack and Shynn,” I hear uncle through the comm, “you take the northbound tunnel. Nayca and Breck take west, we’ll go south. Place you motion detectors at the indicated positions and return here as quickly as possible. Signal if you run into trouble.”

Everyone nods. “Let’s go,” says Nayca, and she and Breck move for the exit across form us. Torrack and Shynn follow them toward the northern tunnel.

Uncle Tobias, Gareth and I go left toward the southbound tunnel. These tunnels are much narrower than the one we came through to get here; only two people can walk next to each other, and that’s a close fit.

We walk along the tunnel, placing motion sensors whenever we come to a junction. We follow a path that is lighting up on our HUDs; slowly going around in circles. Except for some rodents, we don’t encounter anything on our way. When we reach the farthest point, Uncle Tobias has everyone check in. The other teams are about as far our as we are.

“This is Torrack, now passing section eighteen. Turning around in about five minutes.”

“Nayca, currently in eleven, already heading back.”

“We are in eight,” Uncle Tobias answers. “Circling back now.”

The way back is just as uneventful. When we arrive back at the central dome, Nayca and Breck are already waiting. Uncle Tobias comms Torrack.

“Torrack, this is Kryze. How far out are you?”

There is no answer.

“Torrack?”

Still nothing, only a faint crackling sound. “Shynn?”

Everyone draws their blasters, pointing outward in various directions.

“Control?” Tobias tries to comm the palace’s control room. There is no answer either.

For the first time, I feel a sort of slight panic rise inside me. I try to breathe evenly, but it’s not working as well as I’d like.

Uncle Tobias swears. “They must be jamming the comms. If we are affected all the way down here, there must a group of those traitors close by. Nayca, Rant, you stay here. Bo-Katan, Breck, you come with me.”

I feel the blood rushing in my ears as I follow Uncle Tobias into the northbound tunnel.

For about two minutes, nothing happens. Then all our vambraces are beeping, indicating that the motion sensors in sector sixteen have been activated. The path lights up on my HUD, and I follow Tobias as he sets off, running down the tunnel.

As we approach sector sixteen, I can hear it. Blaster fire and shouting. There is a part of me, an instinctual part, that wants to drop everything and just leave. A part that tells me to run away from the danger, not towards it. And yet, there is something exhilarating about this, too.

The shouting and shooting are getting louder, and then I can see Torrack and Shynn bolt around the bend in front of us, shooting at someone behind them.

“Too many!” Torrack yells. “Fall back.”

We retreat back down the tunnel, with our pursuers on our heels. Blaster bolts are flying past us, luckily without hitting us.

“Behind the next bend, make a stand!” Tobias bellows over the noise. “We need to reduce their numbers!”

The bend comes up, and about ten meters behind it, we stop and turn around.

I can hear them before I can see them. And suddenly, the world around me shifts into a razor-sharp focus. Time seems to slow down. I see the warriors come around the bend, and I feel more than see the men around me opening fire at them.

Torrack and Tobias are in front of me. They are tall, and their moving arms obscure my vision. I drop down on one knee to get a better view and a clear shot. I’m still partially behind Torrack, which gives me a fair amount of cover. It gives me time to analyze our opponents’ armor. Heads, shoulders, torsos, knees and shins are all well covered. Their thighs are not. Neither are their upper arms. So that’s where I aim.

I get one in the arm, causing him to drop his weapon. I get another in the leg, making her crumble to the ground. I aim at her arm, too. I hit her, and at least one of her blasters hits the ground. I aim again at a bulky guy to the left. It takes several shots to his thighs before he goes down.

His massive form becomes an obstacle for the other warriors behind him, giving us the advantage we need to fall back again.

The way back to the dome seems much shorter. We reach the main tunnel.

“What’s going on?” Nayca yells.

“They are in pursuit. Move!” Tobias calls back.

“I’m hit,” I hear Shynn, his voice strangely distorted. “I’ll cover your retreat.”

What? When did that happen? But yes, he’s bleeding from his arm and leg, the dark red blood having soaked a large portion of his gray compression suit. Guess I wasn’t the only one aiming at unarmored body parts. I want to protest, but Torrack and Tobias nod, and before I can do or say something, Tobias pushes me into the main tunnel. I hear our pursuers again, and I run.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear blaster fire. Again, my instinct is to turn back and get Shynn, but this time, Gareth pushes me forward.

“It’s his choice, and his sacrifice for us. Move.”

I run up the stairs. By sub-level eight, my lungs are burning, but I keep running.

The comm starts crackling, and then I hear a voice.

“…is control. Do you copy?”

“Copy,” Tobias says over panting breaths. “We are under attack. Close the blast doors on sub-level ten and eight!”

“_Osik!_ Closing blast doors now.”

I keep running until I see the door. 11-13-41. 11-13-41. 11-13-41. The numbers are repeating themselves in my head. I reach the door and the keypad lights up. I punch the numbers in and hear the magnetic seal plop open. I push the door open, and we all spill out into the corridor. Torrack comes through last, and Gareth pushes the door closed, sealing it back up.

We are standing in the corridor, all of us panting. Gareth has his hands on his knees, his back heaving up and down. He takes his helmet off. His head is red under the tousled, almost white hair.

“My lady, are you alright?” Nayca asks, taking her helmet off, her expression worried.

I pull my helmet off, too. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding, Bo-Katan,” Uncle Tobias says.

Really? Where? I look down and see nothing at first. But the adrenaline is wearing off, and I feel a sting in my left arm.

“Ouch?” I say, more questioning than really hurting.

Tobias shakes his head. Then his expression becomes somber again.

“Torrack, check in with the control room. Get an idea of what’s going on down there and that the blast doors are holding. Rant, take Bo-Katan to the infirmary. The lady needs a bacta patch. I’ll talk to my brother.”

We walk up to the ground level together. Uncle Tobias comes up next to me.

“Well done, Bo’ika,” he says, low enough so only I can hear. “I am very proud of you.”

I smile up at him. “Thank you, Uncle.”

“Get some rest, dear.”

I nod. As we keep walking, a cold feeling sweeps over me.

“Shynn,” I say, barely a whisper.

“I know, Bo-Katan. I know.”

###

The infirmary is a mess. Protectors and warriors are here, some with minor injuries like mine, some bleeding profusely. Compared to what I see here, the shootout in the sewers was nothing at all.

Somewhere behind me, a man is yelling. It’s a strangely contorted, high-pitched sound. Gareth pulls me out of the way as a hover stretcher is being pushed past me. There is a Protector in flight gear on it, but it’s hardly recognizable. Most of the flight suit is black; burned away to reveal burned skin. The smell that comes with it is terrible.

For a moment, my heart almost stops as I see the sigil on the men’s shoulder guard. Skull squadron. I gulp down air, but it doesn’t help. There is a lot of movement around me, with doctors and nurses running up to the pilot.

“What happened?” one of the doctors yells.

“His fuel tank was hit. His fighter went up in flames as he tried to land. We barely managed to pull him from the wreckage.” It’s Lorne Karr’s voice. “It’s Alec Lok.”

It takes a moment for the name to register. Alec Lok is one of the Protectors assigned to Cal.

There is suddenly someone next to me. I look up to see the strained face of Fenn Rau.

Alec’s screams are subsiding as a nurse gets a good hold of him, jamming a shot into his neck. The anesthetic works fast, and Alec’s writhing form goes limp.

Another whiff of burned flesh hits my nose, and I stagger right into Rau. He steadies me automatically.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“It’s okay,” he mutters back, his eyes never leaving his friend.

Next to me, Gareth gruntles. “I’ll get that bacta patch,” he says, and walks straight into the mayhem.

“Bacta?” Rau asks. He’s looking down at me.

“Just a graze,” I say. “I didn’t even now someone managed to hit me until Uncle Tobias pointed it out.”

“What happened?”

“Some of Vizsla’s troops tried to get in via the sewage system. We held them off until control could seal the emergency blast doors.”

Gareth returns with a patch and some disinfectant.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. You don’t need a doctor for a bacta patch.”

I nod. Before I follow Gareth, I squeeze Rau’s arm. “I’m sorry for your friend,” I say.

Rau looks down at me. His eyes look tired, his face drained. But there is the shadow of a smile none the less. He covers my hand with his own, squeezing back lightly. Then we each let go of the other.

###

I follow Gareth, not really paying attention where we’re going. After a while, I realize we are walking along passages that are hardly ever used.

We pass through a small, terraced garden. The fresh air hits me; the contrast to the inside so stark that I stop dead in my tracks. That’s when the bile comes up. I instinctively turn to a flower patch as I double over, the meager contents of my stomach emptying over a pretty arrangement of Mandalorian lilies.

Gareth steadies me, but I sink to the floor none the less.

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” Gareth says. “Me at seventeen, I would have retched as soon as that service door closed.”

Gareth lets me sit on the floor for another minute, then he pulls me back to my feet.

“Come on, before that scratch becomes infected and turns into an actual problem.”

###

In the end, it’s Satine who helps me out of my armor, pushes me in the shower and treats my wound. If ruling fails, she would make quiet a competent nurse.

With a fresh compression suit under my armor, I spend the next few hours with Uncle Tobias and Father in the control room. The fighting dies down significantly in the early hours of the morning. Everybody needs to rest at some point, I guess.

I change into my night shirt and comfy pants, but I don’t want to sleep alone. I pad over to Satine’s room on bare feet and cuddle up to her. The pictures of the day assault me in the dark. Satine pulls me close, and I let it all out, sobbing into her shoulder for stars know how long before I finally fall asleep.


	6. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope for the best, plan for the worst.

The next two days make it clear that Vizsla came prepared. He has supply lines in place and a seemingly endless pool of warriors. It might only be a matter of time until the city falls into enemy hands.

The clan chieftains are worried; and they are getting antsy. Many want to leave to return to their own planets and colonies. They know that if Sundari falls, their homes might be the next targets to be attacked. And that should Sundari fall, they might not make it out alive.

I have overheard Father and Uncle Tobias talk about it, but not yet about any solutions. Until now. They have called a meeting. It’s the family, but also some of the clan’s chieftains as well as Brant Torrack and Lorne Karr.

As usual, we gather around the tactical station, and Tobias brings up a map of the city and its surroundings. Then Father begins to speak.

“We have good news and bad news. I will start with the bad news and proceed from there. As most of you have assessed already, we are losing ground in the city with every passing day. It will be a matter of three days at most before Vizsla’s troops reach the palace. And while the palace’s defenses are strong, they cannot withstand an ongoing barrage forever. Especially since Vizsla has more warriors than we do and is extremely well equipped. Fact is, we cannot stop this, and it is most likely that Sundari will fall – at least temporarily – into Vizsla’s hands.”

Even though I have been expecting Father’s words, it’s still a blow. And a low one at that. But I know he’s right. I’ve accompanied Uncle Tobias and Father for several ventures into the city, and there is no way we can hold it against Vizsla’s larger forces.

“I have spoken to every clan chieftain that is here in Sundari with us, and most of you expressed a wish to make sure your own clans and strongholds are well protected. As it stands, this war will most likely spill to other systems in the sector, and fortifying your strongholds is a reasonable request.”

The clan leaders present are nodding. This is no news to them.

“So far,” Father continues, “we were looking for a way to make that possible. And we think we now know how to do it. Tobias?”

Uncle Tobias steps forward and addresses the chieftains.

“As you know, our fighters have been an invaluable asset in this fight. Without them, we might already be facing an attack on the palace. Though Vizsla has a cruiser in orbit and several of his _kom’rke_ were seen, he lacks air support. And though we can assume that there are fighters stationed on his cruiser, there aren’t nearly as many as we have at our disposal.

“Between Lorne Karr, our own pilots and us, we have come up with the following plan,” he continues, his eyes wandering over the chieftains. “The squadrons stationed at Sundari will provide the necessary cover for your ships to reach the main hyperspace corridor. The ion cannon at Kellali outpost will provide additional cover if necessary. All clans will leave in two days at 0300 in the morning.”

“That is a generous offer,” Lincoln Ordo says. “But how will you hold the city without the clans’ additional warriors?”

Tobias opens his mouth to explain, but it’s Father who answers.

“This is not an offer, Lincoln. This is an order. As we have said, we cannot hold the city even with your warriors here. Sundari has always been easier to win than to hold.”

Father pauses. At first, all I register is that Father has already given up. I feel the anger, that has become an almost constant companion within the last few days, rise up inside me again. But Father’s pause gives me pause. Easier to win than to hold? What does he…

“Oh!” I exclaim, accidently out loud. It all falls into place now.

All the chieftains are looking at me, but Uncle Tobias smiles a proud smile. Father raises and eyebrow. Satine and Cal look confused.

“Enlighten the rest of us, Bo-Katan,” Tobias says, motioning with his hand toward the others in the room.

I take a deep breath, then look straight at the chieftains. “We will lose this city one way or another,” I begin. “The question is how. We could keep fighting, of course, but it will not change the outcome. All that will do is get us all killed rather quickly. Or we lose the city on our own terms. As Father just pointed out, it’s easier to win the city than to hold it. So we will turn the situation around. If Vizsla believes he won the city, he will most likely stay here. As he said himself, he wants to sit on the throne. The more of us make it out of this city alive, the better our chances to win it back later. It’s strategy.”

“Exactly,” Uncle Tobias says. “If our history has taught us anything, then that civil wars are won by those with the longest endurance, not by those with the most daring approach. As a warrior, I find this most frustrating. As a strategist, I find it most interesting. Let Vizsla believe he defeated us. Let him stretch his forces thin over the sector as he tries to weaken us by attacking our allies on their own ground. Let him believe he is the victorious hunter, while truly, he will be our prey.”

I watch the chieftains as their worries turn into giddy anticipation.

“What about your own clan, _ner alor_?” Sookie Cadera asks Father.

“This will only work if we let this all play out. We will do just as you. We will go home to our own clan stronghold on Kalevala. Except Calvin, who will accompany his betrothed to Gargon.”

Before I can say something rash, Father continues. “As it is, Calvin is the only child of mine in a position to produce legitimate heirs.”

Oh, right. I see Calvin redden, and Satine flinch. I shudder. The thought alone… Several clan chieftains are clearing their throats. Just because Mandalorians aren’t skin shy, doesn’t mean we like to semi-publicly discuss other people’s sex lives.

Tobias talks right into the embarrassed silence, undeterred. “You have heard my brother,” he says. “This is not an option, this is an order. Leave for your homes, defend them, and if possible, weaken our opponents wherever you can. We will let you know when the time has come to reclaim Mandalore for our clans. Inform your people in the city and prepare your departure.”

There are a few more minutes of mumbled conversations. Some of the chieftains eye me curiously, but I try to ignore it. Instead, I slide up to Calvin. Though we do not always see eye to eye, he is my brother – my twin, even – and I do love him.

“Are you alright?” I ask in a low voice.

“I don’t know,” Cal answers. “Compared to you and Satine, I feel rather useless in all of this, really.”

I normally would go into how he is useless in this by choice, but it’s not the time for that. I am saved by Satine.

“You are not useless, Cal,” she says, her voice almost like Mother’s used to be. “As Father said, out of the three of us, your safety and well-being might be more crucial to our clan’s survival than Bo’s and mine.”

Cal looks slightly sick, and I scrunch up my nose. But Satine has a fair point. Within the next few months, Cal will be married, and any child born by Laurea will carry the name Kryze. A legitimate heir not only to the name, but, for now, as leader of House and Clan Kryze.

Not that any children of Satine’s or mine wouldn’t carry the name Kryze. In contrast to many other civilizations in this galaxy, names do not follow the male line. The name higher up in the hierarchy trumps the lower one, and right now, there is nothing higher up than _Kryze_. The only connection where the name would be a moot point would be if Satine or I married a Vizsla. Which is currently out of the question, obviously.

Then again, wouldn’t it solve half of Mandalore’s problems? Join the two warring houses to create more stability? In another time, it might have worked. But our society is too fractured now to even think something like this. Much less say it out loud.

I see the chieftains and Lorne Karr leave Father’s study. Satine, Cal and I fall into step behind them. But Father calls Satine back.

“Satine. There is something Tobias and I would like to discuss with you.”

“Of course, Father,” Satine answers.

She throws us a puzzled look and I shrug, so she turns back to Uncle and Father, and Cal and I leave the room.

###

A few hours later, Satine and I are sitting in her room. She looks troubled, but she doesn’t – or can’t – talk about what Father and Tobias wanted to discuss with her.

“At least give me something,” I badger.

Satine sighs and shrugs her shoulders. “Let’s just say that Father and Tobias are assessing all possible option on how to win this war, alright?”

I wonder what my pacifist sister might have to contribute to winning this war when diplomacy has already failed. But the chime rings before I can ask her any further questions.

“Come in,” Satine calls out.

The door opens, and Gareth sticks his head in.

“I am sorry to bother you, Your Highnesses, but Lord Tobias is looking for Lady Bo-Katan.”

“I’m coming,” I say, as I get up from the far to comfortable chair. I point a finger at Satine. “We’re not done yet,” I say, but grin at her.

“You not getting anything else out of me,” she says, squinting her eyes. But a small smile is tucking at the corner of her lips, indicating that she understands that I meant it playfully. If Father does not want her to talk about it, I won’t ask any further. I don’t want to get her – or myself for that matter – in trouble.

###

I walk with Gareth toward the control room. The room is bustling, more than the other times I have been here. Next to the usual background chatter of various control stations coordinating the Protectors and warriors in the city are several more people coming and going. I strain my ears and discern that they are involved in the preparations for everyone’s departure.

Gareth walks me over to Uncle Tobias. Tobias looks up at me and smiles a tired smile.

“Hey kiddo,” he says. “You alright?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

Tobias shakes his head with a grin. “Come over here, Bo,” he says, indicating toward a tactical station that is displaying a map of the western reaches.

“Ever been out there?” Tobias inquires.

“For combat training,” I answer. “It’s rough terrain. Sharp-edged rocks and narrow ravines.”

“Yes,” Tobias answers. “Ever been out there for fun?”

I don’t answer.

“I won’t tell your father, I promise,” he says.

“Uhm, yeah. At the underground lake.”

Tobias grins and looks at Gareth, who just shrugs. “Some things never change, my Lord,” Gareth says.

“No, I guess not,” Tobias answers. Then he focusses back on the map.

“The underground lake is very beautiful, but sadly, also well known,” he says. “But it’s not the only cave system in the western reaches. There are several more. Have you been to one during your training?”

I nod. “Yes, this one,” I say, pointing to a system further north of the lake system. “But it’s just tunnels, just one or two larger caverns, maybe as big as this room.”

Tobias makes an affirmative noise. “Ever been to this one?” he asks, pointing to another one to the west.

“No, not that I recall.”

“Most likely not,” Tobias says. “There are only two entrances from the surface, and they are extremely well hidden. One over here, the other is just a few miles south of the Kellali outpost.”

“You said the only entrances from the surface,” I say, and Tobias smiles. “How else can you get in?”

“There is a passageway that connects that system to the city. It’s accessible, conveniently, through the palace’s library.”

“You’re kidding,” I say in surprise, only to flush red the next second. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Bo’ika. I might have had the same reaction when my mother showed me the entrance.”

“So, what are you planning, then?” I ask.

“It’s easy to forget that there are several people in this palace that a neither warriors nor Protectors,” Uncle Tobias says. “Cooks, handmaidens, servants of all kind. But they are all House Kryze, and hence our responsibility. We have started to evacuate them through that passage. They will walk all the way to Kellali. We have two large cruisers there that will take them to Kalevala. It’s not necessarily their home, but they will be safe there.”

I nod. I haven’t thought about them before, all the people working here, and what would become of them if – no, when – Vizsla takes over the palace.

“Take a walk with me, Bo-Katan, will you?” Tobias suddenly says, motioning for the doors.

I frown at him, but then I realize there is something he wants to talk about that is not meant for so many ears.

“Sure Uncle,” I say, and fall into step behind him.

Gareth stays at the tactical station, but Tobias waves him over. “Come along, too, Rant,” he says. “You are the lady’s Protector after all.”

Gareth looks surprised but follows us from the room anyway. Tobias walks us down several hallways until we reach the library. Groups of people, each accompanied by a Kryze warrior, head into the library. One of the larger bookshelves has been moved aside, revealing a dimly lit corridor behind it.

“Neat,” I whisper.

“Yes,” Tobias agrees. “My father was furious when my mother showed it to us. He knew we would use it to sneak out.”

“And did you?” I ask. “Sneak out, I mean.”

“Of course, we did,” Tobias says indignantly. “We were young once, too, Bo-Katan.”

I grin. I seem to have no memory of Uncle Tobias, or Father for that matter, ever being young. Though they are not even old. Father is forty-five, Tobias forty-two. The only one of them I can picture being young is Aunt Alanna. Maybe because she still _is_ young. She is forty, but she neither looks it nor does she act like it. I can see her slipping out at night to go skinny dipping in the underground lake for sure. But Father or Uncle Tobias? But who knows? Even Satine has snuck out a night or two. So why not them?

“Let’s walk a little bit further, shall we?” Uncle Tobias inquires, motioning for the door again.

We keep walking in companionable silence, down the stairs and across the training yard. We finally come to the hangers. The large hangar is busy with people preparing the chieftains’ _kom’rke_ for departure. We pass it, occasionally nodding to someone familiar.

The smaller hanger is busy, too. Two squadrons have just returned, two more are heading out. I see several Kryze pilots as well as Skull Squadron exiting their fighters. Though some of them have taken damage, all of them seem to have returned.

Lorne Karr’s pilots walk toward us. We are standing next to the exit after all. Karr himself looks beat but greets us politely none the less. His pilots seem exhausted, too. I get a glimpse of Fenn Rau, helmet under his arm, looking tired. But he catches my eye and smiles at me, inclining his head ever so slightly. I smile back.

“Commander,” Tobias addresses Karr. “I’m afraid I’ll have to borrow Fenn Rau for a few minutes if that’s alright with you.”

Karr looks surprised, but nods. “Of course, My Lord.”

Rau looks surprised, too, but steps forward immediately.

“Get some rest, Commander,” Tobias says to Karr. “I’ll return your pilot as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, Sir,” Karr says, and he and the rest of Skull Squadron make for the door.

I see Rau eye Gareth, who shrugs. Apart from Uncle Tobias, none of us know why we are here.

Tobias grins, fully enjoying our cluelessness, and starts walking again. He turns to Fenn Rau.

“Do you remember the canyon we flew over half a dozen times?”

“The one that leads to Kellali? Of course, sir.”

“Good,” Uncle Tobias nods. He leads us back to the training yard and into the small armory that holds the training weapons as well as fully stacked arsenal of real weapons.

He pushes some crates aside, revealing a trap door. I gasp.

“You’re kidding,” I say again.

Tobias grins, and opens the door. The two Protectors have their eyebrows raised to their hairlines.

“This,” Tobias says, “leads to said canyon. If all other options fail, Bo-Katan, you will take your sister and, if they’re still here, your brother and his betrothed, and you will bring them here and into the canyon. You will follow the canyon all the way to Kellali and get on one of the cruisers to Kalevala. Tell me you understand.”

“But-“

“Tell me you understand,” Tobias repeats, looking me straight in the eye, yellow flecks sparkling dangerously in his eyes.

“I understand,” I say, and I do. But I am afraid of what Tobias implies.

Tobias’ expression softens and he puts a hand on my shoulder.

“This is just preparation, Bo’ika,” he says, his voice almost gentle. “But your father and I need to know that come what may, you children get out.”

He fixes Rau and Gareth with a hard stare.

“My niece is your responsibility. It is your duty to protect her. I am placing her life in your hands. Do not make me regret my choice.”

Gareth and Fenn Rau straighten up, saying “My Lord.”

“Good,” Tobias answers. “And if Bo-Katan becomes stubborn and tries anything too foolish, drag her out of here if necessary.”

“Uncle!”

“Yes, my Lord,” the Protectors say again, and I know they will do exactly as Uncle Tobias told them if they think it necessary.

There is a part of me that feels helpless about Tobias’ orders; angry even. But there is another part of me that is glad I have Fenn and Gareth to watch my back.

###

We deliver Fenn back to the training center and walk back up toward the castle. It’s almost time for dinner, and we make more or less straight for the family dining room.

Tobias and I walk next to each other in silence. He suddenly puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side, rubbing my upper arm in a strangely fatherly gesture, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“I know what I am asking of you is not easy, Bo-Katan,” he says, looking down at me. “And if all goes half-way according to plan, we will all fly out here together and be on our way to Kalevala. But as they say: hope for the best, plan for the worst.”

I nod. It’s not that I don’t understand, but…

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” I say. “I guess I finally understand what I truly asked for in Father’s study that night.”

Uncle Tobias stops and turns me to face him, his hands on my upper arms, holding me in place.

“I know, Bo’ika,” he sighs. “But believe me, I hadn’t agreed to it if I wouldn’t think you capable of it. Every ruler needs someone in the background they can trust to have a plan when all other plans have failed. You’re a smart woman, Bo-Katan; someone with an analytical mind. You see patterns and connections where others only see randomness and chaos. Those are invaluable skills, Bo. They enable you to think farther, be a strategist rather than just a tactician. To see the bigger picture. Whatever happens during this war, the ultimate goal is for the clan to survive. Everything we do has to be with this in mind. Some things might look like a step back, like leaving Sundari to fall into Vizsla’s hands. But in the long run, it brings us closer to victory.”

He pauses for a moment, then continues. “You and I are the only ones in our family who still follow the _Resol’nare_ without question. So we must do what the others will not. We must defend ourselves and our family. No matter what, Clan Kryze will survive. We always survive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations**  
_ner alor_ \- my leader  
_Resol'nare_ \- the Six Actions, the central tenets of Mandalorian life (wear the armor, speak the language, defend yourself and your family, rais your children to be Mandalorian, contribute to your clan's walfare, follow your _Mand'alor_)


	7. Best laid plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everything is going according to plan…

I am standing in front of my wardrobe, though I have no idea why, really. Well, that’s not entirely true. I do know _why_ I am here. Uncle Tobias reminded us all to pack. A small backpack full of necessities, nothing fancy. So here I am, but nothing in my wardrobe seems to say _Take me with you!_. There is the dress I wore for Cal’s engagement party, but that’s not coming, obviously. There are other formal clothes made from nice, soft, and shimmering fabrics. Totally useless in a war, really.

So maybe I should take Tobias’ reminder literal and go for the necessities. Underwear, for example. And socks. A plain compression suite. Behind it, I see something else. Something I haven’t worn in a while, not since my last combat training outside the city. While a compression suite is important for flying – be it in a space craft or with a jetpack – it’s not made to withstand the elements for long. It’s enough here inside the city, but wind, rain, or worse? Those will grind down the fabric rather quickly. So I pull out my two sets of gray pants and shirts, made out of thick and sturdy fabric, that can go under my armor plating. Both of them are too big to fit into the backpack, so I decide to put one on right now.

I lay everything out on my bed; compression suite, pants, shirt, armor pieces. Then I make a round through the refresher. I collect a thing or two to throw in the backpack; hygiene is important after all, even – or especially in – a war.

There is a full-length mirror in my bedroom. I hardly ever use it, but I can’t help to look at myself in it now. The last few weeks have changed my position in the family and in court, and it seems my body changed with it. Even though I kept eating after Dorian’s death, I still lost a bit of weight, and it shows. Not badly, but a bit. My waist is a bit thinner, and my hipbones protrude a little. The muscles on my body are more defined. Though that might just be because I’ve spent more time in the training yard lately. I like to spar, and Fenn Rau is a willing and capable opponent.

But enough of that. I turn from the mirror and get dressed. I tug my helmet under my arm, and just before I leave, I turn back to the mirror again.

I study the person staring back at me from bottom to top. The armored boots, knee guards, holsters and blasters, the armor pieces protecting my groin, the belt. The chest piece of my armor, purple and silver, the shoulder guards, the vambraces. All the way to my face, with my green eyes looking back at me. I put on my helmet for a moment, just to see myself fully armored for once. The helmet is also painted in Kryze colors, silvery gray and purple, the sigil of Clan Kryze prominent on the forehead.

I smile under my helmet, though my reflection remains the same, of course. I like what I see. It’s who I am, who I wanted to be, and who I trained to become. A warrior of Clan Kryze; someone strong, and someone with a purpose.

I take the helmet back off. There are still groups of Mandalorians who don’t take off their helmets in front of others at all. Clans that interpret the _Resol’nare_ in the very strict ways of centuries past. Rumor has it they don’t even take it off to sleep or eat. They just mush everything and use a feeding straw. Ugh… Sorry, but meat is meant to be chewed, and not slurped through a straw. Again, ugh…

Well, be that as it may… I take my backpack and swing it over one shoulder, tug my helmet under my arm again, and leave my room behind for stars know how long.

###

With basically all servants gone, there is no one to take my backpack, so I take it to the control room with Gareth trailing behind me. Everyone is busy, despite the late hour. The _kom’rke_ to leave first are already loaded, their owners boarding or on board already. I watch the evacuation proceedings on the screens.

Father and Uncle Tobias both have grim looks on their faces, though the evacuation looks to be going as planned. If something is off, they don’t show it on a screen. I know by now that if it’s something I should know about, Uncle Tobias will tell me.

The strangest sight in the control room are Satine and Cal. Both have dressed in plain clothes. Well, as plain as they own, anyway. I guess it’s sensible enough for now. I wish they would wear their armor. They _have_ armor, for crying out loud! But stars they are stubborn. Well, I guess it’s a typical Mandalorian trait for what it’s worth.

Satine has occasionally been down here, but she has followed the fighting mostly together with Father in his study. I guess they had a lot to talk about, and the talk about an eventual transition of power is probably not for the ears of everyone in this room.

I don’t think I’ve seen Cal down here once. It’s not his territory. Maybe it is as Satine says; that Calvin has different qualities, a different skillset, something else that contributes to the Clan’s welfare. But there is a part of me that will always find Cal weak. It’s not that I don’t love him; he _is_ my brother. It’s more like a sort of frustration that he remains defenseless by choice.

Even now, Calvin isn’t here for long. He’s come to say his goodbyes to us. The Priest’s ship is among the first wave to leave. Everyone in the family is hugging Cal goodbye. My little brother, who is barely as tall as I am, with his pretty blue eyes and high cheek bones and his bloody strait Kryze nose. And I am glad that he is going to one of the remotest planets the sector has to offer, far away from all the fighting. As I said, I love him, no matter what.

I ruffle through his bright red hair before I pull him into a bone-crushing hug myself.

“Take care, little brother,” I whisper in his ear.

He doesn’t even complain about the _little_ part. He just hugs me tighter.

“You too,” he whispers back.

I release him, and I see that his eyes are shiny, but he manages to hold back the tears.

Even Father and Uncle Tobias hug Cal. Father looks like he is about to lose another child, even though Cal will probably be the safest of us all.

Fenn Rau somehow appears next to us.

“My Lord,” he says to Cal. “It’s time.”

Cal nods, and with one last look at us, turns to leave.

Rau slightly bows in our direction and turns to leave, too. I know Skull Squadron will protect the first wave, but…

“Excuse me for a second,” I say, and head after Cal and Rau.

I catch up to them just outside the door.

“Fenn Rau,” I say, and he turns around.

“My Lady?”

I hate it when he calls me that. But I have not given him permission to call me otherwise and I’ve overheard Gareth tell him off for referring to me as just _Bo-Katan_ instead of _Lady Bo-Katan_, so I am reluctant to tell him to call me simply by name. I don’t want to get him in trouble.

My eyes flicker to Cal for a second, but to _haran_ with it.

“Make sure my brother is safe,” I tell him.

“Or course, my Lady,” he answers, and is about to turn around again.

But I grab his arm to stop him. “Be safe, too.”

He looks at me in surprise, but then his expression softens.

“And you,” he answers.

I release his arm and with a “Bye Cal!” turn and walk back into the control room.

###

Not half an hour later, and it begins.

Just like the past nights, the fighting has died down significantly. If we want to make our move, it’s now or never. Vizsla’s men have made it almost to the palace. If we are still here in the morning, the palace will most likely be besieged and fall within a day or two.

Father, Satine, Uncle Tobias and I are standing behind a communications specialist, watching the screen that will show the final stage of the evacuation.

“Kellali outpost, this is central control, come in.”

“Central Control, this is Kellali.”

“Begin charging the ion cannon and aim for the enemy cruiser in orbit. Please acknowledge.”

“Central Control, Kellali. Acknowledge.”

People tend to forget that an ion cannon needs a lot of energy. In order to fire the cannon at Kellali, several districts of the city will be without electricity. Not that anyone cares right now. All those districts are controlled by Vizsla by now anyway.

A few minutes pass before the communications pick back up.

“Central Control, Kellali. Ion cannon at fifty percent and holding. Permission to reroute power from the city’s power grid to fully charge the cannon.”

The communications specialist looks at Father. Father nods shortly.

“Kellali, Central. Permission granted.”

The communications specialist switches over to another channel.

“Attention first wave, this is control. Prepare for departure.”

One after the other, the ships forming the first wave call in.

The lights in the control room flicker as the outpost calls in on the other channel.

“Central, Kellali. Ion cannon fully charged.”

“Acknowledged. Aim for the cruiser but hold your fire.”

“Acknowledged. Aiming for cruiser, holding fire.”

“First wave, control. Go, go, go.”

I watch the screen in giddy anticipation as one ship after the other leaves the hanger, each escorted by two fighters of Skull Squadron. The _kom’rke_ are big compared to the fang fighters and have to fly slowly in order to maneuver in the city. But still, it takes several minutes before Vizsla’s men can react. Only the last _kom’rk_ has to deal with some blaster fire before it exits the city through on of the larger hangers at the edge of the city.

But isn’t that strange? The hangers outside the city are all controlled by Vizsla. Shouldn’t they have some sort of heavy weaponry out there? My eyes flicker to Uncle Tobias, and his face looks deeply troubled.

I edge closer to him, so I only have to whisper.

“Shouldn’t there more of an obstacle?” I ask him.

“Yes,” he answers, just as quietly. “But this is not unexpected.”

We look back at the screen.

The ships have made it into orbit, but now the cruiser starts to open fire. There are several fang fighters launching from the cruiser, but not nearly enough to stop the anyone.

Tobias’ face darkens by the second. The cruiser manages to hit one of the _kom’rke_, but it keeps going none the less. One after the other, the ships manage to escape into hyperspace.

Skull squadron turns back toward the planet, making short work of the few enemy fighters. Again, they only have to deal with minimal resistance to get back to the palace.

There are cheers in the control room. The first wave is safe without a single life lost.

“Something is wrong,” I say.

“I agree,” Tobias answers.

“What do you mean, something is wrong?” Satine asks. “This is going so smoothly!”

“This is _too_ smooth,” I tell her. “By now, Vizsla’s men should have heavy weaponry out, taking down our fighters. The cruiser didn’t even try to hit the ships, and I am pretty sure there are more than a handful of fighters on that cruiser.”

“They know what we are doing,” Tobias adds. “We are supposed to feel safe. The next wave will have a much harder time to get out.”

Father grumbles. “Comm Lincoln Ordo. Ask him if he wants to try to make a run for it or switch to plan B.”

The communications specialist does as he’s told.

“With all due respect, _ner alor_,” Lincoln Ordo say, “but I’d rather try to get out with the ship. I think the others feel the same.”

“Very well,” Father says. “Prepare for departure.”

I watch the monitor in grim anticipation. With the landing platforms outside the city in Vizsla’s hand, Night Squadron and Blade Squadron are also set up in castle hangers, and Blade Squadron will accompany the second wave.

I watch as the ships leave the hanger, slowly making their way through the city. The first few blocks are no problem. And then, all hell breaks loose.

Vizsla’s men have done exactly as we anticipated. There is heavy fire from the ground and from the tops of some buildings. And there are several Vizsla warriors with jetpacks about. The fang fighters manage to take out some of the heavy artillery, but not enough. The barrage continues all the way to the city limits. Two _kom’rke_ are downed, and at least three fighters are down, too.

The outer hangers are even worse. The tight space makes it impossible for our enemies to miss our ships. Lincoln Ordo’s ship takes heavy damage. Luckily, only the last _kom’rk_ is damaged so badly that it crashes inside the hanger. Otherwise, all ships after that would no longer be able to pass through.

Vizsla also has heavy weaponry outside the city, managing to damage more ships and down even more fighters.

I look over at Uncle Tobias. His face is passive, his eyes locked on the screen. Father’s look is a little more upset, but not as much as I would expect.

Satine suddenly speaks up.

“Shouldn’t we do something?” she asks, her voice shaky and her expression horrified. “They are all dying…”

“Not yet,” I answer her. “First of all, we gave them a choice. They wanted to try. Secondly, it makes Vizsla think we fell for his attempt to lure us into a false sense of safety. As planned, Lincoln Ordo is not flying his own ship, he’s flying ours. Vizsla was most likely looking for the signature of Father’s personal ship, and he has found it. It’s why that ship is taking so much damage. Vizsla believes it’s us.”

Satine’s expression looks even more horrified than before, it that’s even possible.

“I know,” she says. “But still…The risk Lincoln is taking…”

“He is taking out of loyalty, Satine,” Tobias says, his voice not unkind. “Whether you like it or not, all our lives are depending on the loyalty of our allies.”

“I know, it’s just-“

“Hush, Satine,” Father says, but he too sounds sympathetic. “It was Lincoln’s idea and his choice. He knew the risk, and he took it anyway.”

Satine falls silent and just watches as the fighting above the planet continues. It _is_ hard to look at; not just for Satine, but for everyone.

“Comm the fighters,” Tobias says, as more and more ships approach the hyperspace lane. “Tell them to jump with the ships they are escorting. There is no chance they’ll make it back into the city anyway.”

The communications specialist does as instructed.

“Comm Kellali,” Father says. “Tell them to fire the ion cannon. Let’s get as many ships into hyperspace as possible.”

We watch on the screen as the outpost takes a shot at the enemy cruiser. Thankfully, it’s a direct hit. But it takes a few more minutes and a lot more damage from Vizsla’s fighters before all of the remaining ships have jumped to hyperspace, Lincoln Ordo included.

The atmosphere in the control room is by far less enthusiastic than after the successful departure of the first wave. Everyone knows that there is no way out of the city by ship now.

Tobias is immediately back to business. He lifts his wrist comm, presses the broadcast button and simply says “Initiate plan B”.

That’s it, nothing more. But it’s enough to jolt everyone around us into action.

With the large outer hanger blocked by the _kom’rk_ wreckage, the only way out of the city are the passageways. Good thing they were installed _after_ the last Vizsla ruler left the palace. So it’s not impossible, but at least unlikely that Tor Vizsla knows about them. But we can’t be certain. Just because no enemy movements were detected in the tunnels so far doesn’t mean that they don’t know about them. Again, it could be an attempt to lure us into a false sense of security. Well, lets just hope that Vizsla believes we already fled the system.

But just as I think that thought, the proximity warnings of the palace’s outer walls start blaring inside the control room. Vizsla’s men have started their attack on the palace. We can only watch as the Protectors stationed outside start fighting back, making liberal use of the laser cannons installed on every balcony and flat surface to be found.

“Time’s up,” Tobias calls out. “Everyone, move.”

One good thing about us _Mando’ade_? We don’t easily panic. There is no shoving or running as everyone leaves the control room. We walk at a brisk pace and in a mostly orderly fashion.

I walk with Satine several steps behind Father. Say about her and her pacifism what you want, but somewhere deep inside, Satine is a fighter. No matter how much all of this disagrees with her convictions, she will do what she must to see this through and come out on top in the end.

The look on her face is determined, her breathing even, her eyes focused on the people in front of us. If she feels fear or worry, she is no longer showing it. There is a job to be done, and she’ll do it. Satine is a pragmatic.

Her calm composure has something reassuring about it and I smile at her. She catches my smile out of the corner of her eyes.

“Oh, shut up” she says, smiling back.

And then, without warning or indication, it happens. There is a flash of white light, and it’s blinding without my helmet on. It is followed by the sound of an explosion; and before I can really comprehend what is happening, I am knocked back by the shock wave. Transparisteel and durasteel debris is flying everywhere, and I feel part of it hit my armor and scratch my face.

I am only on the ground for a few seconds before I am roughly pulled back up into a standing position by Gareth.

There is smoke everywhere and I am momentarily disorientated. But, like back in the sewers, the adrenaline kicks in and everything settles into razor-sharp focus.

The wall to my right has a gaping hole in it; the dura- and transparisteel construction blown inward by the blast. Some of the people in front of us have been caught inside the blast radius. There is blood and the smell of burned flesh, and I can hear people in terrible agony. And I know that there will be no help for them. Not in our current situation.

In the corner of my eye, I see Satine begin to move toward the wounded, but I stop her. She struggles against my grip with a surprising strength, but I’m not letting go. I gave my word to Uncle Tobias that I would help to protect her and get her out of here safely.

I look at Father and Uncle Tobias, both covered in scratches but otherwise fine. Just as I open my mouth to ask how to proceed, several warriors with jetpacks fly in through the whole in the wall.

And suddenly, it’s like I am operating on autopilot. I drop my bag and put my helmet on, shove Satine in the arms of the Protectors behind me and draw my blasters. There are six Vizsla warriors hovering in the air; and they have it easy to pick us off one by one. Those without armor fall first. There corridor is crowded, and our enemies can hardly miss us.

Father and Torrack are shooting back. But Uncle Tobias has a different approach. He makes full use of his weapons and his vambraces. He releases the cable from his left vambrace, coiling it around one the warrior’s legs and pulls hard, the automated retraction helping to pull the warrior in Tobias’ reach. I can see just a flash of the vibroblade as Tobias plunges it into the man’s ribs below his arm, where there is no armor to protect him.

It’s the last thing for a while that actively registers. There are more Vizsla warriors swarming in, and I fire back myself, my mind focusing solely on survival.

After a while – and I have absolutely no idea how much time has really passed – all of the intruders are down. I take my helmet off, the HUD more of a barrier than a help right now, and look around me. Satine is still huddled between the Protectors; her hair in disarray but otherwise unharmed. The Protectors also look a little worse for wear, but they seem to have gone without any serious injuries. Gareth is right next to me. He, too, has taken his helmet off, and sweat is running down his slightly red face. Father and Uncle Tobias are standing over what can only be described as a pile of bodies. And there are bodies all around us. Most are dead, some wounded so badly they can no longer get up.

There is movement in the corridor behind us and we turn around, weapons pointing down the hall. But we holster them as soon as we see Lorne Karr and Fenn Rau.

Before anyone can say something, another Vizsla warrior comes flying almost full speed through the gap in the wall, and crashes right into Father and Uncle Tobias. For a second, we are all starring in shock as the three of them wrestle on the floor; then we all pull out our blasters. But we don’t shoot; we can’t shoot. Not without risking hitting Father or Tobias. But Tobias is an experienced warrior and he manages to get on his knees, pulling the man up with him in a choke hold. I see the vibroblade again, and in one swift motion, Tobias manages to tilt the head of his opponent slightly back and to slit the blade across the man’s throat. Tobias holds him until the man stops struggling. Then he just lets him slip to the ground, covered in blood.

Tobias gets up on his feet, slightly reeling for a second, but then he steadies himself and reaches a hand out to Father, who is still on the ground.

“Adonai,” he says. “Come on.”

But Father doesn’t answer. He only makes a sort of grunting noise; and I go cold all over. There is so much blood on the floor by now; and some of it is Father’s.

Before anyone can stop me, I am kneeling where Father is lying on the floor. I feel more than see Satine beside me. Father is looking at us, but his eyes slip out of focus every few seconds. Then he manages to focus on Satine.

“Remember,” he says, and blood spills out of his mouth as he does. “Follow the plan. As you promised.”

Satine doesn’t say anything. Tears are streaming down her face, but she nods.

Then he looks at me and slips into Mando’a.

“Hiibir baatir be gar vode. Gar cuyir kovid. Gar enteyor cuyir kovid par kayshe.“ _Take care of your siblings. You are strong. You must be strong for them._

I can only nod, too. I don’t trust my voice.

With a last effort, Father turns to Tobias, but his voice is gone. His arm flails until Tobias takes a hold of Father’s hand.

“Ni kar'taylir, vod. Ni kar'taylir,” Tobias says, his voice quiet and tired. _I know, brother. I know._

And then Father’s body starts to slightly convulse, more blood spilling from his mouth. And then it stops. Suddenly, and just like that. Father’s eyes are open, staring blankly into the void.

And I can just sit here, my ears filled with a high-pitched sound that drowns everything else out. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tobias begin to move, but I don’t. I can’t. I see him talk and gesture, but I don’t hear him, and his movements make no sense to me.

I feel someone gently pulling at my shoulder, but I still don’t move. It takes a while before a voice finally makes it through the ringing in my ears.

“Bo-Katan.”

I look to my right, straight into the face of Fenn Rau. His slender brows are knotted in concern, but his eyes are sympathetic. Not pitiful, but understanding.

“Remember your promises, Bo-Katan,” he says. “We have to leave. We have to protect your sister.”

I nod. But I feel oddly boneless, unable to get up. Fenn seems to sense it, curling his hand around my upper arm and pulling me up like I weigh nothing. Gareth steadies me from behind, his hand a reassuring touch between my shoulder blades. I have never needed a Protector to actually _protect_ me from others; I am still fairly certain I can do that on my own. But for the first time I realize that sometimes, Protectors are there to protect us from ourselves.

I take a deep breath and put my helmet back on. I grab my bag from where I dropped it and turn to Uncle Tobias.

“Lead the way, Bo-Katan,” he says. “You know where to go. Gareth and I will bring up the rear.”

I nod and make for the training yard and the secret passageway. I step over the dead and the wounded, unable to help them. I can hear Satine sob, but I concentrate on the hallway in front of me.

“Come on, your Grace,” I hear Torrack say. “There is nothing we can do for them now.”

_Your Grace_. Not your Highness. No. Your Grace. Satine is the Duchess now. I stagger slightly, but Fenn Rau steadies me before anyone can really see.

We round a corner, and once we’re all out of sight of Tobias and Gareth, we hear blaster fire. Not volleys; single shots, deliberate.

“What-“ Satine begins to say. But Torrack leads her onward.

“Keep going, your Grace,” he says. “Your uncle and Rant will be right there.”

In some way, it’s probably a mercy; to shoot the wounded. A clean death instead of prolonged suffering. And that is probably the reason we tell ourselves to sleep better at night. But the real reason is that dead men can’t talk. Can’t reveal plans or numbers or names.

So there is nothing for us now except to move forward. There are not many left of the group that set out from the control room. Satine, Tobias and me, Torrack, Gareth, Breck and Nayca, a few others. And now also Lorne Karr and Fenn Rau. Maybe fifteen people all together out of a room that had more than fifty people in it.

Tobias and Gareth catch up to us after a few minutes. Both have their helmets on, and I have can only guess what expression is on their faces behind it.

“Karr,” Tobias says.

“My Lord?”

“Since you’re here I take it everyone from the third wave has evacuated as planned?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Good.”

We keep walking in silence. We can hear the battle for the palace outside, but here, deep inside the walls, there is nothing else but the faint noises of explosions and blaster fire.

We encounter no one else on our way to the secret tunnel. It’s strangely easy to get there. I watch Gareth and Fenn Rau move the crates to reveal the trapdoor; and I watch as the dark passage swallows one person after the next until it’s my turn.

Inside the passage, when everyone is inside, I look back to watch Torrack pull the door shut. And then I hear the scratching noise of crates being moved back into position over the entrance. I count the people, counting one person less. I don’t know the name of the person who is missing, but I know he stayed so we would not be discovered.

And here, inside the darkness of the passageway, I want to just lay down and cry. But I can’t, and I don’t. There is only one thing to do, and that is to move forward into the darkness ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations**
> 
> _Resol'nare_ \- Six Actions, the tenets of Mandalorian life  
_kom'rk(e)_ \- Gauntlet(s)  
_haran_ \- hell  
_ner alor_ \- my chief


	8. Onward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobias has to lead the survivors to Kelalli. A short look inside his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Tobias’ POV

We walk. Straight ahead. Onward, always onward. I set the pace, and everyone else follows in silence. The only indication that we eventually leave the city limits is the change of environmental readings on my HUD. I look up, but I can’t really see anything. The night sky is black; not a single star to be seen.

“Kill the lights,” I say into the quiet. “We don’t want any air patrols to spot us. Use the night vision of your helmets.”

Everyone does as told and so do I, the world around me lighting up in shades of green; the rough stone of the narrow canyon we’re in a stark contrast to the dark patch of sky above us. I switch to a backward view on the HUD, looking at the men and women behind me without having to turn my head. The _beskar’gam_ of the protectors is much bulkier than the usual, but that way I can distinguish them from the others even with the night vision on.

Satine suddenly stops in her tracks.

“I can’t see anything with the lights off,” she says, sounding almost indignant.

“Me neither,” another voice ventures from behind her.

I can hear a collective sigh through the open helmet comm, and I am sure I sighed, too.

“We have to keep moving,” I tell, them, and I know I sound harsh. “Torrack, make sure Her Grace finds her way. Breck, take the other. And let’s go, before we are so late that they decide to leave Kellali without us.”

My voice is low, but you can hear the irritation and anger as clearly as if I was shouting. I knew that the evacuation plan would most likely fail. I knew that we would have to leave the city by other means. And I knew we’d have to run. But I thought I’d do it all for Adonai.

And now my brother is gone. Killed by some Vizsla warrior who might not even have known who he killed before he died at my hand. And now I must do it for Satine. A young woman who would make a passable ruler in peaceful times, but who might fail in leading us in this war. She is too much like her mother in many ways.

But this is not something I can think about right now, so I resume walking at a brisk pace. Putting as much distance between us and the city is the best thing we can do now.

At some point, somebody will realize that Adonai is among the dead, and Tor will have to entertain the possibility that if Adonai wasn’t on his ship, his children might also still be on Mandalore. His first reaction will be to search the caves. But since he won’t find us there, his attention will shift to the outposts around the city, and he’ll guess that we’d made for Kellali. We have to be out of there before his fighters get there and torch the place.

I don’t know how much time passes. I concentrate on the path in front of me. All I can hear is the breathing of people behind me through the open comm channel. As dawn slowly comes, my HUD indicates that Bo has opened a private channel.

“Uncle Tobias?” she says, sounding a bit out of breath. “I know we have to keep moving, but not everyone in this group has your endurance – or legs as long as yours.”

I slow down a bit. “I’m sorry, Bo’ika.” And I am. None of this is the fault of the people behind me.

“And I think some people might need to take a leak…”

I snort out a short laugh. “That include you?”

I can almost hear her eyeroll. “Yes, it does.”

“There is a small cave system half a click ahead. We can rest there for a short while.”

“Thanks.”

She closes the channel, and the open comm channel is back. I tell everyone that we’ll make a break soon, and I can hear the small sounds of approval and relief.

###

The cave system is small, but it allows us to stay undetected should any patrols get here this quickly. All around me, people take off their helmets and sit down against the walls. We stay by the cave exit, where the sun know illuminates the narrow ravine we’re in.

I let my gaze swap over them. The Protectors are trained for this, and they seem fine to me. Bo looks a little exhausted, but otherwise fine. Her face is passive, but that doesn’t mean anything. She managed to hold it together on the outside after Dorian’s death, too, but the turmoil on the inside will want to break free eventually. I notice Fenn Rau stealing glances at her, like he wants to go over to her and do _something_. But there is nothing he can do, and I guess he knows that. And Gareth already had a heart to heart with him about propriety as far as I can gather.

The comm specialist looks like he has never walked this far in his life. Maybe he hasn’t. But he looks determined, and I guess that’ll have to do.

Satine looks like she is at the verge of tears, but she is not crying. Whatever comes, she must find the strength to lead us through this war, and quickly. In the last two months, I realized Satine is a lot like her mother. She may look like a Kryze, but she is all Elia on the inside. Compassionate, dutiful; and a staunch pacifist. But Bo says Satine is as determined as every other _Mando’ad_, and so I must trust that she will find the determination she will need to lead us.

Satine and Bo sit next to each other, passing a water bottle back and forth between them. Torrack is standing next to them, watching over his new Duchess.

He does not agree with the plan Adonai set in motion. And I agree that it’s never a good idea to bring in _aruetiise_. Especially not _jetiise_. And I am still not sure the _jetiise_ could provide any council or insight that we don’t already have. But that was only part of Adonai’s plan. The other part was to protect Satine beyond what the Protectors can do. To protect her while she is being hunted.

And Tor is a relentless hunter. He will not stop until either he or all of Clan Kryze is dead. And he will come for Satine as soon as he finds out that she is now Mandalore’s legitimate ruler. She might truly be safest when even we don’t know where she is.

I sigh and shake my head to clear it. I walk out into the ravine and a few meters down to sit down beneath a small outcrop of rock. The sun is almost completely up now, and I close my eyes for a few moments against the light. But then I hear feet shuffling in my direction and open them again.

It’s Gareth, walking over to me with a water bottle in his hand. He holds it out to me, but I don’t take it.

“Everybody needs to drink, _ad’ika_,” he says. No one has called me _lad_ in about twenty-five years. And I guess I would be furious if anyone else had said it. But Gareth was Mother’s Protector, a constant presence in my childhood. He was trusted with a large part of my combat training, and I guess I picked up a not so small portion of my sense of duty from him. He was also one of the very few people who would admonish me when I was out of line.

I take the bottle from him and drink a few sips. I hand it back, and Gareth seems satisfied.

“How could it all go so wrong, Gareth?” I ask involuntarily. The question just slips out.

He sighs and thinks for a moment.

“I honestly can’t tell you,” he says. “And you know there is nothing anyone can say to make it better. But I do know that it’s not your fault. And I trust in your skill and experience, and I know you’ll come out on top in the end.”

I smile a tired smile. Gareth always had faith in me.

“And what about the rest?” I ask.

“The rest,” Gareth says, “will find their place, just as you and Adonai did when the weight of ruling was thrust on his shoulders. Satine is stronger than she looks, and she will not abandon her people. She will fight in her own way. Don’t be mistaken Tobias, there is an iron will beneath all her talk of peace and pacifism.”

“And Bo-Katan?”

“Is a credit to the woman she was named after, and you know it.”

I smile and and nod. Yes, I do know it.

Gareth holds out his hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet with a surprising amount of strength.

“Come on, _ad’ika_,” he says. “There is a war to win.”

Yes. Yes there is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We learned the name of Satine's and Bo's mother. Have you noticed?
> 
> **Mando'a translations**  
_beskar'gam_ \- armor (lit.: iron skin)  
_aruetii(se)_ \- outsider(s)  
_jetii/jetiise_ \- Jedi (sg./pl.)  
_ad'ika_ \- little one, son, dauther; or simply "lad"


	9. Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes there is nothing else we can do but walk the path that is laid out in front of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Bo’s POV

I have lost all my natural sense of time. The narrow ravine we’re in looks the same, no matter how long we walk. Just the packed, dry, yellowy-white sand that is Mandalore for kilometers and kilometers on end. The ravine is winding left and right, and so the passage of the sun has lost all bearing it would usually have. I could bring up the time on my HUD, but I don’t. I don’t really want to know how long we’ve been walking.

The pace is still challenging, but Tobias did slow down a fraction after our first rest. Still, it’s too fast to have any form of conversation with each other. On the one hand, I don’t mind. I’m not good at chit-chat, and I wouldn’t even know what to talk about given the circumstances.

On the other hand, the quiet gives my thoughts time to wander. And wander they do. To Father, to Dorian, to Cal, to Satine. Then back to my own fate. Two months ago, my life was without direction. And then Dorian died, and suddenly, thanks to Tobias, my life had purpose. Be the warrior Satine cannot – or doesn’t want to – be. Secure her role as the future Duchess. And be prepared to make the hard choices behind the scenes that Satine will not be able to make.

To have a purpose is a good thing. But it always felt like something that would not come to pass for many years. Father was still so young. He could have easily ruled for several more decades.

And now all that has changed. Father is gone, and our responsibilities are thrust onto our shoulders without the time to truly prepare for them. We made promises to Father on his dying breath, and now we are beholden to them. _Remember your promises_, Father had said to Satine. And it occurs to me only now that I don’t know what she promised him. I’ll have to ask her when we made it off Mandalore. I guess it has something to do with the talk she had with Father and Tobias, which she wouldn’t talk about before. Only that it seemed to make her somewhat thoughtful.

Father’s words to me repeat in my head. _Gar cuyir kovid._ _You are strong._ I have been left out of the loop for so many years that I had started to wonder if Father noticed me at all. But in the end, he did, and he entrusted my siblings’ lives to me with his last words. So that is what I will do. Cal is out of my reach right now. And I must trust that he is safe with the Priests for now. But I will protect Satine.

Satine walks in front of me. Her clothes are dirty from the fine sand particles that swirl through the air. But she keeps on walking, not slowing down, and no longer complaining. There is strength in her, and I hope she finds enough of it to lead us through this war. I know she can, if she sets her mind to it. Satine has an almost unbreakable sense of duty, just like Mother had. Maybe that’s why they both prefer green clothing? Green is the color of duty after all.

Next to her is Brant Torrack. I always find him to be somewhat stoic, but maybe he has to be in his position. There is a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, too. He must protect the ruler of Mandalore and is responsible for all the Protectors at the same time. And sometimes, those duties clash. To serve the throne can cost a Protector’s life all too easily.

The thought makes me look at the two men who are now walking next to me, one on either side. Gareth, who has always been this constant, soothing and quiet presence as long as I can remember. Some think him too old for his job because of his now completely white hair. But I know better. He is experienced, and that makes up for a lot. And let’s face it, sixty-five is not really that old. He has many years still ahead of him.

On the other side, just as quiet sometimes, and yet completely different, is Fenn Rau. He, too, isn’t one for polite chatter, but he’s not as quiet as Gareth. Sometimes – or a lot of times, depending on the circumstances – his cockiness gets the better of him, and he’ll start to brag slightly. We all have our weaknesses, and maybe being a bit too confident and a bit too cocky is his. But he’s not a bad guy; on the contrary, he’s probably one of the good ones.

I know he cares. I can see it in the way he looked over to me now and then today. Not with pity; no, he never does that. It’s more like he’s frustrated that he can’t do anything to help me, other than the silent company both he and Gareth are providing. But their silent company is worth more than all the cheerful talk or all the condolences people might feel otherwise obliged to give.

I am pulled out of my thoughts by Tobias raising his hand in a fist, and we all stop.

“We’re almost there,” he says. “Breck, Nayca, come with me. We’ll scout ahead and see if we can safely enter Kellali. The rest will wait here.”

No one argues. Technically, Satine could argue. Tobias may be her uncle, but she’s the ruler. If she disagrees, she’d have every right to say so. But she doesn’t, and I am thankful for it. Satine is no warrior, and maybe she knows it’s better to leave the strategizing to those who are more experienced.

Tobias and the two Protectors vanish behind the next bend of the ravine and the rest of us settles down along its walls. I pull out my water, but it’s nearly empty. I hand it over to Satine. She probably needs it more than I do, and she has no water on her.

“Drink up,” I tell her, and she does.

“You think Kellali is still save?” she asks quietly.

I shrug. “I guess so. We’ve seen no fighter patrols so far, which is a good sign.”

Satine nods and gets up.

“I have to talk to Brant about something,” she says, and walks over to the commander. They move a little away from the group, far enough to be completely out of earshot. The unknown promise of hers starts nagging at my mind again.

In Satine’s absence, my two Protectors flop down on the ground next to me. Gareth holds out a ration pack.

“It tastes terrible,” he says. “But it’s still better than to go hungry.”

“I’m not really hungry,” I tell him, though I hope I don’t sound too unkind. “But thank you.”

“At least eat a bite or two,” Gareth insists. “You haven’t eaten anything today, and it’s almost noon.”

I frown and grab the pack from him. It really does taste disgusting, but I nibble a few bites anyway. I want to swallow the last bite with some of my water, and remember I gave it to Satine. But, of course, Fenn Rau magically produces another bottle for me.

I take the bottle and swallow the rest of the crumbly ration with a big gulp of water.

Yeah, alright, it does make me feel better to have at least some food – well, nourishment, let’s not call it food – in my stomach.

“You think the transports are still there?” I ask.

Gareth shrugs next to me. “Hard to say. We didn’t see the ion cannon fire last night, something we probably wouldn’t have missed in the dark. With the battle cruiser still in orbit, it would be prudent to make the run for the jump point under cover of a nice ion blast. Unless the cannon has not enough power now. Could be that Vizsla cut the grid connection to the city.”

“In which case,” Rau continues, “there is still a fighter squadron of Protectors stationed at Kellali. But as far as I know, the transports are supposed to wait until 2000 tonight for us. I don’t think they left without us unless they had no other choice.”

“Vizsla will need some time to get the city under full control,” Gareth reminds me. “And he knows the outposts do not hold enough men to launch a counterattack. They are not yet his priority. So, chances are actually pretty good the transports are exactly where they’re supposed to be.”

I nod, feeling better. Both Gareth and Rau don’t coddle, and if they thought there was a chance the transports are already gone, they would say so.

I lay my head back against the rough wall of the ravine and close my eyes. The long march combined with the lack of sleep and my now fuller stomach make me realize how tired I am. There is a part of me that just wants to go to sleep, to shut out the rest of the world and retreat into the land of dreamless slumber. But I don’t fall asleep. Instead, I listen to the sounds of hushed voices and slow movements around me. I feel Gareth and Fenn next to me, breathing evenly, so close that their shoulder guards sometimes connect with mine with a dull metallic scrape.

At one point, I realize that Fenn is humming under his breath, almost too low to hear. It’s not random notes, it’s a tune, and he carries it well. I instinctively lean closer, my shoulder guard scraping against his, and he stops.

“Don’t stop,” I say automatically, and I sound sleepy even to my own ears.

Fenn Rau chuckles. “Let’s not sing you to sleep right now, my Lady. Some other time.”

I make a rumbling noise and Fenn chuckles again.

“_Di’kut_,” but I have to smile while saying it. _Some other time._ Well, I just might hold him to that.

###

Half an hour later, and Tobias and the Protectors are back.

“Good news for a change,” he announces. “The transports are still there and there have been no signs of any Vizsla troupes so far.”

Well, that definitely brightens everyone’s mood.

“Pack up and let’s move,” Tobias orders.

We gather up our stuff. I want to hand the water bottle back to Fenn, but he waves me off.

“Keep it,” he says. “I got another one in my pack.”

“Thanks.”

He gets up and holds his hand out to me. I take it and let him pull me to my feet, something he has done several dozen times while sparring with me. It’s not that I couldn’t get up on my own, but it’s his way to show that he cares and my way to show that I appreciate his silent – and somewhat sweet – concern.

Tobias walks over to us and puts his arm around my shoulders again in the strangely fatherly gesture he’d shown before.

“You alright, _Bo’ika_?”

“I’ll get there.” It’s an honest answer.

“Not long now until we’re home,” he says, and squeezes my shoulder.

_Home_. I know he means Kalevala. And to him, that _is_ home. But to me? I have lived in the palace or at school my whole life. I’ve been to Kalevala only twice; the last time was ten years ago. It’s not home to me. Then again, neither is Sundari, really.

Gareth has finished packing back up, too, and is about to get up. Tobias stretches out his hand toward Gareth just like Fenn had to me.

“Come, _ruug'la jag_,” Tobias says, grinning.

“Don’t you go calling me an old man,” Gareth grumbles.

“Alright, _ruug'la burc'ya_,” Tobias amends. _Old friend._

Gareth grumbles some more, but in a good-natured way, and grabs Tobias’ hand. Tobias pulls him up and claps Gareth on the back.

“Stay with Bo-Katan, would you? I need to talk to Satine and Brant.”

Gareth nods and we watch Tobias walk over to them.

“Move out!” Tobias calls back, and we set off for the last few kilometers to Kellali.

###

Tobias’ pace is slower than before. He’s been talking to Satine and Torrack for a while now. They are so far ahead that I can’t hear them, and I guess I am not supposed to. Gareth has been walking next to me the whole time, and the only reason for Tobias to emphasize on that is to keep me out of the conversation the three are having at the front of the column.

But I can still watch them. Tobias and Torrack are basically unreadable in their armor and with their helmets on. But Satine is an open book to me. Her posture is rigid, her hands balled into tight fists. Whatever they are talking about, she disagrees. Disagrees, but can’t or won’t say so.

All this secrecy annoys me. First Satine’s talk with Torrack, now with him and Tobias. There is something going on and I am not supposed to know it. At least not for now.

“Do you know what they are talking about?” I ask, turning toward Gareth.

He shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. Only that is pisses off Torrack. Do you know anything, Fenn?”

“Not really,” Fenn answers. “I gather it has something to do with whatever her Grace promised her father. At first, I thought that she, Torrack and Tobias were all rather opposed to whatever it is. But now I think Lord Tobias has come around, whatever the reason, and is trying to convince the other two.”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I thought, too.”

“If Tobias has come around, there is probably a good reason for it,” Gareth says, sounding thoughtful. “He’s not someone who easily abandons his own opinion. But if Adonai thought it was a good idea, or at least an idea that would aid us in this war, Tobias would have supported him. And if her Grace made a promise, he’ll make sure she’ll keep it.”

“She’ll keep it anyway,” I say. “She knows her duty.”

“Yes, she does,” Gareth agrees.

We lapse back into silence for a while. I noticed how Gareth hadn’t used neither Tobias’ nor Father’s title when he spoke. Strange for someone who reprimanded Fenn for not using mine.

“Gareth?”

“My Lady?”

“How long have you known Uncle Tobias and Father?”

“Since their birth.”

“What were they like? As children, I mean?”

Gareth is quiet for a moment. “They were very close; almost inseparable. Two regular troublemakers, really. And Alanna was no fairy-tale princess, either. But you can’t forget that though Duke Argaeus _inherited_ the title of _Mand’alor_, he had to fight to keep it. He was a warlord. And that’s how he raised his children; all his children. He loved them, and hence he taught them to fight and to survive. When Adonai turned ten, the Duke personally oversaw his training; as a warrior and as a ruler. Tobias’ and Alanna’s training was left to their mother.”

“Bo-Katan Cadera,” I interject.

“Yes. It’s a rather typical arrangement, really. Her Grace was as much a warrior as her husband, and a very good strategist. But it was hard on the siblings, especially on Adonai. Duke Argaeus took Adonai with him whenever he had to deal with opposition, and that was already a lot back then. It’s not the first time the Vizslas have stirred up trouble in an attempt to get the throne back. Tobias and Alanna had each other at least. And Her Grace made sure they had as normal a childhood as can be when you are born into the ruling family. But she also had to take over her husband’s duties whenever he was gone, and so a lot of Tobias’ and Alanna’s training fell into my hands.”

This explains a bit why Father seemed so distant sometimes. It’s how he was raised.

“It’s part of the reason why your parents decided to raise their children differently,” Gareth continues. “I don’t think they intended for you to be as separated as you ended up being.”

“It changed when Mother died, didn’t it?”

Gareth nods. “I am afraid so, yes. But remember what happened to his family, my Lady. His mother, your grandmother, died before her time, shortly after your parents had married. An undiagnosed aneurism. Days on foot out in the Kalevala forests hunting with Tobias and Alanna; all help came too late.”

Gareth pauses for a moment, inhaling deeply a few times. Had he been there?

“And then his father was assassinated, and he became the new ruler. He was only a few years older than her Grace is now. And then your mother just a decade later. It was too much personal loss. He couldn’t lose any more people he loved. I think all he did, or did not do, was to protect his children.”

I nod. Uncle Tobias and Satine have said much the same about his actions, or lack thereof. And I understand. Laid out before me like this, I truly do. I still don’t agree, but at least I understand.

There are a thousand more questions I want to ask about my family, but this is not the time or the place. I’ll have plenty of time for that when we reach Kalevala.

“Thank you, Gareth,” I say instead. “Would you tell me more sometime later?”

“Or course, my Lady.”

###

About fifteen minutes later, and the path starts to slope upward, and we arrive at Kellali.

All you can see from the outside is a high wall as protection against ground assaults. There’s a heavy set of doors that are reinforced with a portcullis. Once we are through those, they close behind us. It should make me feel save, but it just makes me feel caged instead.

Kellali is large for an outpost. It can host up to five small transports and a squad of fighters. The ion cannon isn’t directly at Kellali, but about half a kilometer away, nestled into the opening of a large canyon. The building itself doesn’t look like much from the outside. A simple, cubic, two-story, dura- and transparisteel block without any interesting characteristics. Its value lies in the ten sublevels below.

The airfield is now hosting the two transports bound for Kalevala, a squadron of fang fighters and a lone _kom’rk_. There is another ship, a light freighter, half concealed behind one of the transports. It’s dull gray and non-descript; nothing I’ve really seen before but so ordinary that I guess there are thousands of them roaming the galaxy.

Mandalore trades with many planets, even outside the sector, and the docks are usually filled with freighters from all over the galaxy. This one probably tried to land in the middle of Vizsla’s attack and decided to lay low before making a run for it.

We are greeted by the outpost’s commander and brought inside.

“We are waiting for the order to charge the cannon again to enable the transports to leave,” the commander says by way of greeting. “But I take it you and her Grace want to talk to the, eh, u_nexpected_ guests, first?”

“Yes, we would,” Tobias answers, and the rigidness is back in Satine’s poise.

Unexpected guests? This is too much secrecy.

“Satine?” I ask, and there is an edge to my voice they can’t really mistake.

Satine opens and closes her mouth for a moment, and it’s Uncle Tobias who answers.

“Give us a moment, Bo-Katan. We’ll talk together later, I promise.”

I deflate; mainly because I know I can’t really say anything against that. So I watch Satine, Tobias and Torrack as they follow the commander deeper into the outpost.

A harried-looking lieutenant shows up to direct us toward a common area.

“If you excuse me,” Lorne Karr says. “I’d like to talk to my pilots outside.”

I’ve completely forgotten about Karr. He was so quiet on the walk here. When no one answers him though, I realize he asked me. Well, I guess I outrank him by grace of birth.

“Yes, of course,” I answer. Then I look at Rau. “Would you want to accompany him?”

Rau looks between me and Karr, and I realize he is uncertain. If anything happens now, he’ll have broken his word to Uncle Tobias. But he should see his comrades, his friends.

“Go on,” I say. “I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

“That won’t be necessary, my Lady,” he says, and walks over to Karr, both of them heading for the doors. My HUD shows Rau opening a private channel.

“Thank you,” is all he says before the comm disconnects again.

I take my helmet off as we follow the lieutenant toward the mess hall. Once inside, I realize why the poor man looks a harried as he does. Aunt Alanna is standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips and a furious expression on her face.

“Well, do tell me you finally have any reliable news for me!” she all but yells at the men.

But then she spots us; our little group, tired and sand-crested, and her face falls and she almost staggers back half a step.

“No.”

I want to tell her something, but I can’t. And here, in this moment, with the shock and horror plain on Alanna’s face, it all comes wallowing up and crashing down on me, and I break. I shake my head to stop the tears, but it doesn’t work.

I fear my legs might give out, but before anything can happen, Gareth has tucked me into his side, and I sob into his shoulder for stars know how long.

After a while, I hear Alanna’s voice again.

“Where are Tobias and Satine?”

“Talking to someone downstairs,” Gareth answers.

“Do you know who?”

I feel Gareth shake his head. “I’m afraid not. Tobias said there’ll be answers, though.”

“Well, there better be.”

“Where’s Alrich?” Gareth asks in turn.

“On the transport.”

There are a few moments of silence in which Gareth steers me to a long table and sits me down on a chair while still keeping his arm around my shoulders. I’ve never felt so useless and yet so thankful at the same time. The rest of the group has dispersed around the room during my breakdown, and I am thankful for that, too.

Alanna flops down on the chair next to Gareth. I feel him shift as he extends his other arm and pulls Aunt Alanna into his other side and rubs her arm. It’s a lot like how Tobias pulls me into his side now and then to tell me he cares or show his support; and given what I now know about Gareth training Tobias and Alanna, I wonder if Tobias picked this gesture up from him. Alanna seems to be comfortable with this fatherly show of affection and I hear her let out a long breath before straightening up again.

“Well, what now?” she asks.

“Stick to the plan,” I say, my voice raspy, but I need to do something to take my mind off Father’s loss. “Go to Kalevala and let Vizsla think he won until we are ready to strike back.”

“What if Satine is not prepared to take Sundari back by force?”

“She will do what is necessary for the clan to survive,” I tell her.

But would Satine fight? Would she abandon her convictions to lead an army? To be at the front line on a battlefield? And what if not?

###

It takes another hour before Satine and Uncle Tobias appear in the mess hall with Torrack on their heels.

“I’d like to talk to the family alone,” Satine says, her voice steely. People take the hint and file out.

“Come on, Rant, I’ll need to brief the Protectors.” Torrack beckons for Gareth to follow him. Gareth gives my shoulder another grandfatherly pat and heads out with his commander.

That leaves Satine, Tobias, Alanna and me; alone in a room that can hold a hundred. Satine and Tobias sit down at the table Alanna and I already occupy. Tobias looks tired and older than he actually is. Satine looks as if she’s going to be sick.

She flattens her hands on the table, studying them for a few moments, and then clasps them together. It’s a habit Mother had, whenever she had to tell us something we would most likely disagree with. I brace myself.

“Shorty after Vizsla attacked,” Satine begins, “Father called me to him to discuss an idea that might aid us in the war. An idea that I did not expect, and that might have been just unusual enough to catch Tor Vizsla off guard. He wanted an outside perspective on what was happening, a possibility to get different ideas on how to proceed. He wanted to contact the Jedi council and ask for their assistance. And he did.”

There is a heavy silence in the room that’s almost deafening.

“_Jetiise_?” Alanna asks, sounding almost disgusted.

“Yes,” Satine confirms.

“Does the freighter outside belong to them?” I ask. “Are they the people you’ve been talking to?”

Satine nods. “Yes. They send a master and his apprentice.”

“And?” Alanna asks pointedly. “Do they have a plan?”

Satine looks over to Tobias, hoping maybe that he will take over for her. But he doesn’t; he just motions for her to go on.

“Yes, and no,” Satine continues. “Father’s original idea, to have the Jedi as a sort of strategic assistance, was scrubbed when it was clear that we would lose the city. Instead, Father focused on how to make sure his children would be as save as possible. And the safest way to do that was to make sure that none of us are at the same location during this war.”

“What are you saying?” I start to feel betrayed, but I am still hoping against hope that I misunderstand her.

“Cal is already far away with the Priests. You will go with Uncle Tobias to Kalevala.”

“And you?”

“I’ll go with the Jedi.”

No. No, no, no, no, no. This can’t happen. She can’t leave. She’s the ruler, she _has_ to stay.

“You can’t just leave,” I say out loud. “You’re the ruler. You can’t go to Coruscant and leave your people.”

Satine’s cool demeanor vanishes in an instant. She stands up, leaning over the table on her hands, her face angry.

“If you think I will leave this sector to go hiding in some senatorial apartment, you don’t know me at all!”

I flinch back. “Then what?” I ask.

Satine inhales sharply, but now Uncle Tobias intervenes at last. He places a hand on Satine’s shoulder, pushing her gently back on her chair.

“She does know you better, Satine,” he says calmly and fixes me. “You do know better, _Bo’ika_. You know Satine would never agree to something that would force her to abandon her people. But we must consider not only how to win this war, but that we still have a Kryze ruler by the end of it. Remember that you went from almost forgotten to next in line in a matter of weeks, Bo.”

_Next in line_. _Fierfek_, I haven’t even thought about that. I look down.

Satine takes a deep breath to steady herself and continues.

“The plan is for me to always be on the move under the protection of the Jedi. We all know I am no warrior, and I cannot lead an army. That is for you and Tobias, Bo. As Father said; you are the strong one, and the one who must be strong for all of us. But there is something else I can do. We have chosen to disperse our forces until the time is right to form an army again. And as much as that makes sense, it poses a risk. The risk of our allies feeling alone and forgotten. But if I can move from planet to planet, from clan to clan, that risk can be minimized. Our allies trust Tobias and you to lead our forces. And I must make them trust me as their ruler. As someone who will not abandon them, no matter what.”

I nod. It does make sense in a way. But I also still feel betrayed, though I will not say so. How could Father have us make so different promises? If Satine fulfils hers, I cannot fulfil mine. How am I to protect my siblings if they are not _with_ me?

Aunt Alanna sighs. “There is nothing we can say to change your mind, is there?”

“No.”

“Alright then. I have a large network of personal contacts all over the sector. People who are close to their respective chieftains. I’ll make a list for you. You can contact them and arrange for meetings with their clan leaders or anyone else for that matter with a much smaller risk of being detected by Vizsla spies.”

“Thank you, Aunt Alanna. That would be much appreciated.”

Alanna makes a non-committal noise and gets up.

“I’ll see to it right now. I guess time is of the essence?”

“Yes,” Tobias answers. “Thanks, Ally.”

Alanna leaves and Tobias gets up, too.

“I’ll see you off, Satine.” He looks at me. “But I’ll give you two sometime to say goodbye.”

When Tobias, too, is out the door, Satine gets up and moves around the table to sit down next to me.

“I am sorry, Bo,” she says. “I hoped until last that Father would change his mind. But I cannot break the promise I made to him. Not now.”

“It’s not that I don’t understand that,” I say. “But I made promises, too. Promises I can no longer keep now.”

“I know, Bo. And I _am_ sorry.”

I nod, still looking down. And then I feel Satine’s arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“I love you, little sister. Never doubt that. And never forget that.”

The tears come again as I hug her back.

“I love you, too.”

###

Twenty minutes later, and all the necessary preparations are made. Satine has Alanna’s list of contacts and is standing on the airfield with Tobias and the two _Jetiise_. I haven’t met them. The less they know about the family the better.

I have put my helmet back on and have pulled the rangefinder down in front of my visor to better observe them from a distance. One of them is tall; taller even than Uncle Tobias. _Jetiise_ are supposed to be these serene beings, but the man looks remarkably ordinary; his robes a little untidy, with long hair, a beard and a friendly face. His apprentice on the other hand looks much more like I would imagine a _Jetii_ to look. Short hair, clean shaven, and spotless, impeccable robes. And though he looks much more contained, he doesn’t look unfriendly. Both bear no weapons except their lightsabers. Well, none that I can see, anyway.

I watch as Uncle Tobias bows to Satine and she inclines her head. It’s a strangely formal goodbye. A goodbye between a ruler and the commander of her armies. The two _Jetiise_ bow low and escort Satine inside the freighter. The closing on the cargo bay doors leaves me with an ominous feeling, my stomach tightening into a knot.

Everyone else is ready to leave, too. The transports are fully loaded, and I can see Karr and several pilots man their fighters. The _kom’rk_ is powering up, too.

Tobias waves me over. I push the rangefinder back up and make my way over to him.

“Come on, _Bo’ika_,” he says with a sigh. “Let’s go home.”

He motions for the _kom’rk_. “We’ll get a little more privacy,” he says with a smirk.

We make our way to the cockpit, where Fenn Rau is running through the pre-flight diagnostics with Gareth watching him anxiously.

“Still not fond of flying, I see,” Tobias says, nudging Gareth.

“I’ll live.”

Tobias sits down in the co-pilots chair and Gareth and I strap in in the second row. Tobias activates the comm.

“Attention all ships, prepare for departure. Kellali, charge ion cannon and target the cruiser.”

After a few minutes, Kellali gives the all clear.

“Attention all ships. Go, go, go.”

I’ve never seen large ships get off the ground like that. It’s unspectacular, really. All it does is make a very large dust cloud until we can barely see anything, and Fenn has to rely on the ship’s instruments to steer. But then we are up high enough and the air clears. I’d like to look down on the planet, but I am too far in the back to see anything but the other ships and the sky. A sky that is now slowly going from bright blue to purple to bluish-black, and finally to the full black with white spots of space.

“Calculating jump.” Rau’s voice brings me back to the here and now.

Suddenly, the ships proximity warning starts blaring.

“Fighters incoming,” Rau warns, and starts an evasive maneuver.

Back here, all I can do is watch as Rau skillfully pilots the ship, avoiding almost all the fire directed at us. At one point, I can see the ion pulse as it hits the cruiser’s broadside.

Vizsla’s fighters keep chasing us, and I see some of our own fighters be destroyed.

The Jedi freighter is now almost right in front of us, rolling left and right, gracefully avoiding the shots aimed at them. And then, suddenly, the ships levels out…and is gone. They have jumped, and my sister is gone.

I hear our own nav computer beep triumphantly. Rau deftly avoids another volley of laser fire, the _kom’rk_’s rotating wings swinging around the hull, and the he, too, pushes the lever, sending us into the white and blue swirl of hyperspace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think all Mando'a words used have already been listed several times in previous chapters and all others are explained directly in the text. If not, feel free to message me or consult mandoa.org or lingojam.com/Mandoa-EnglishTranslator.


	10. Kalevala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival on Kalevala and at the Kryze home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) This chapter is written form Fenn’s POV.
> 
> 2) Canonically, we know nothing about Kalevala except that it was the home of Clan Kryze and that parts of its population were New Mandalorians. According to Legends, it was just one planet over from Mandalore itself and a toxic desert. I cheerfully chose to use the canonical lack of information and to ignore Legends completely.

The descent toward Kalevala is slow but breathtaking. The clans of House Kryze live on the northern hemisphere, where they basically occupy an entire continent on their own. The large mountain range to the east is visible from space, with peaks thousands of meters high and topped with snow. It’s the first snow I have ever seen in my entire life.

Where the mountains end, the continent is a mix of woods, hills, fields and rivers. I was born on Ordo, and the only other planets I have seen so far are _Manda’yaim_ and Concord Dawn, all of them desolate worlds. Kalevala is something else entirely.

We are now heading toward a larger settlement on the west end of the continent.

“It’s called Naak,” Lord Tobias explains. “It was founded over five hundred years ago by the New Mandalorians. Compared to Sundari, it’s just a small town. But it is the largest settlement on Kalevala, with about fifty thousand people living there. It’s our main space port and trading hub. It’s also one of the cultural centers of the New Mandalorians of House Kryze. They run schools, a hospital, things like that. And they have offered to take in the refugees from Sundari.”

“The passengers from the transports.”

“Yes. My brother’s late wife used to be one of their patrons. They do remember Elia very fondly and have agreed to help as far as their philosophy allows.”

Naak, though much smaller than Sundari, has the same feel to it. Large, cubic complexes of glass and steel. Pretty to look at, but without any feel of _yaim’la_. It also looks pretty defenseless.

I look for a way to voice my concern without sounding condescending. “Will they be safe here?”

Lord Tobias chuckles. “It looks awfully fragile, doesn’t it? But yes, they will. The settlement is protected by several shield generators. And though the board members were not really pleased, they have agreed to host a part of the protectoral fighter squadrons for their own safety. We can’t host all of them at the stronghold anyway, and this way, I can kill two birds with one stone.”

I nod.

“Don’t worry,” Lord Tobias says with a smile. “Skull squadron will be hosted at the stronghold. I need Lorne’s expertise.”

Well, that does make me feel much better. The thought of being stuck in this glass cage with a few thousand New Mandalorians would not be a pleasant one.

_And you would no longer see her_, my own mind reminds me in a forbidden thought. Yes, well, that too. When we first were given the assignment to protect members of the ruling family, I was dreading it a bit. I’m a pilot, and the less I fly, the edgier I get. But protecting Bo-Katan is only half bad, and I would genuinely miss her if I was reassigned. She is easy to be around, not squeamish about crude jokes or bad language, and can deal out a punch. And she has that catching laugh, and maybe I would miss that the most.

###

Our little fleet of ships lands at the space port and everybody starts to disembark. Bo-Katan, Gareth and I follow Lord Tobias off the _kom’rk_. We are greeted by a group of people, all dressed somewhat similar in mostly white clothing, accented with light blue or light gray.

“My Lord,” one of them says, “it is good to see you.”

“And you, Almac,” Lord Tobias answers, and the two men shake hands.

“Is the duchess not with you?”

“She is traveling by a different route for her own safety.”

Well, that is a nice way to say that her Grace left with two _Jetiise_, destination unknown.

“Of course, my Lord. Prince Tal will be so disappointed not to see her. He has been looking forward to it.”

“I will let her Grace know. You have met my other niece, Bo-Katan, I believe. Though it has been a long time.”

It’s Bo-Katan’s cue to take her helmet off, and she does. She looks tired and a bit drawn, but she inclines her head politely.

“Yes, of course. It is a pleasure to see you again, my Lady.”

_Mirsh'kyramud_. Bo-Katan hates pleasantries, but she just nods again, managing to actually look regal despite the circumstances.

“Will you be staying, my Lord?” the man, Almac, directs his attention at Lord Tobias again.

“No, we must be off rather quickly again. I am just here for some last details. Your assistant was a bit vague on where you could house the refugees. I take it suitable accommodations could be found?”

“Yes, my Lord. There are several refugees who are from Kalevala, and we will arrange for them to go home as quickly as possible. The rest can be accommodated at the trading guild’s convention center. We are rather certain that we will not be hosting any conventions during a war.”

“Most likely not, no.”

“As for the wounded you managed to get off Mandalore,” Almac continues, “they will be well taken care of at the hospital.”

This is news to me. They managed to evacuate some of the wounded? Did they manage to get Alec out?

“Thank you, Almac. I know we have our differences, but I am truly thankful for the aid the New Mandalorians are willing to give to help those in need.”

Almac smiles in way I can’t exactly interpret. “I am a practical man, my Lord. And we cannot turn a blind eye to the needs of our people. If you would excuse me now, there are many things that still need to be dealt with.”

“Of course. Thank you again, Almac.”

“My Lord.” Almac bows slightly, and he and his entourage turn to leave.

Lord Tobias turns around to face us.

“I’ll go talk to Brant and see how long he’s going to need to sort out the refugees and the Protectors. We’ll leave once he’s done. I’d say you could take a look around, but I’d feel more comfortable if you’d remain with the ship.”

“Of course, Uncle,” Bo-Katan answers.

“Try to get some rest, alright?”

She nods. “We’ll try.”

Lord Tobias smiles and heads for the crowded center of the space port. The rest of us retreats into the _kom’rk_.

I leave Gareth and Bo-Katan in the small galley and head for the cockpit to run a few more diagnostics. The _kom’rk_ and my fang fighter are very similar in many ways, and yet I hardly ever fly space craft this big. Well, it’s not really _big_. It can host a crew up to four people and can transport another 24 warriors over shorter distances, being able to release them midflight if they wear jetpacks. It’s a strange mixture of assault craft and troop transport.

The first round of diagnostics comes back clear and I launch another set. Just as I decide to get some shut-eye as I wait, the cockpit doors open and Bo-Katan walks in.

“My Lady?”

“Gareth made tea. You want some?” she asks, holding out a steaming thermal mug. The cockpit starts to fill with the smell of herbs.

I’m usually not one for tea, but why not? I take the mug from her. “Thanks.”

To my surprise, Bo-Katan settles in the co-pilots chair, hands wrapped around her own mug, and looks out of the window with a sigh.

“You alright?” I ask, my mouth faster than my brain.

“No,” she answers plainly. “But I’ll get there.”

Her green eyes – a strangely mossy green today – fix me with a soft look.

“Your friend was on one of the transports,” she says.

“Alec?”

“Yes. He was in bacta long enough to be able to be evacuated from the palace.”

_Fierfek_, that’s the best news I’ve heard in days. I guess my face must have lightened up, because she now smiles at me. A sad smile, but a smile none the less. I smile back.

We sit in silence for a few minutes.

“Is there anything I can do?” I finally resolve to ask her. “I feel pretty useless in all of this.”

She looks at me and shakes her head. “You are doing enough. I’ll take the silent company over meaningless cheerful chatter any day.”

“I know. It just feels inadequate, is all.”

“Well, it’s not.”

A few moments later, and she suddenly looks at me with curiosity.

“What were you humming? In the ravine?”

Argh, _osik_. I hoped she’d forget that. “A Concordian lament.”

“I’d like to hear it one day,” she says. “But not today.”

“No,” I agree. “Not today.”

###

It’s early afternoon when we finally make it to the Kryze stronghold. Well, _stronghold_ doesn’t really do it justice. It’s more like a fortress, with high walls and battlements topped with laser cannons. Nestled against a sheer rock cliff in the foothills of Kale mountain, everything about it says _Don’t even try_.

There is a long crevice in the cliff about fifty meters above the fortress, and I see the fighters heading for it.

“It holds a hanger,” Lord Tobias explains again. “Smaller craft can easily land there. You can settle this one down over there.”

He points to a large open space right behind the outer walls and I land the _kom’rk_ where he told me.

“Finally,” Gareth mutters under his breath behind me. I look over my shoulder and see Torrack looking at him with a sour glare, while Bo-Katan pats his shoulder wearing a sympathetic smile.

Lord Tobias chuckles. “Don’t worry, Gareth. It’s probably the last time in quite a while that you have to leave solid ground for space travel. Come on, let’s get off this thing.”

We file out behind Lord Tobias and into a large yard. Where Naak was all glass and steel, this is all packed earth and stone. There are several low buildings to the left and right, their open doors revealing forges and armories, food storages and other supply rooms. The people are largely armored, everyone either working or walking around purposefully. Heads are nodded in our general direction, but no one stops what they’re doing. The people training in the large open space in the middle of the yard don’t even take notice of us at all.

Until yesterday, I though Lord Tobias and Bo-Katan were the odd Kryzes. Now I realize that there are large parts of House Kryze that are Old Mandalorians. Given what Gareth told Bo-Katan about Duke Adonai’s upbringing, I now fully realize that this is not the first time these people have gone to war. This is an army; organized and experienced.

Lord Tobias’ pace becomes faster as we approach the main building, a three-story construction of stone and steel. There is a flight of stairs leading up the main doors. On top of those is a woman, maybe about forty years old, fully armored with her helmet clasped to her belt. Her armor is different from the rest of the clan. There is the purple and silver-gray of Clan Kryze, yes, but there are also streaks of white and blue that remined me loosely of fur. Her shoulder guards have the head of an animal painted on them, some sort of feline. As we get closer, I can see it’s an asharl panther, marking her as a member of Clan Rodarch. So, this must be Ida Rodarch then, Lord Tobias’s wife.

She is different from what I expected. She has a pale, oval face with pinkish lips and sparkly blue eyes. Her sand-colored hair is _long_, wrapped around her head in a braid.

Tobias Kryze, usually a steadfast rock in a sea of chaos, takes off his helmet, climbs the stairs two steps at a time, and throws his arms around his wife, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She embraces him equally fierce. I see her lips move, but I don’t hear the words she whispers into her husband’s ear.

After a while, they break apart, and Ida Rodarch bounds down the stairs toward us.

Bo-Katan takes off her helmet, a small, genuine smile on her face.

“Aunt Ida,” she says.

Ida Rodarch stops dead in her tracks for a second, almost gaping at Bo-Katan. But then she closes the distance between them, and gently pulls Bo-Katan into a hug.

“_Ad’ika_,” she says. “I am so sorry.”

Her voice is low and melodic, laced with honest sympathy. This close, I can see a few white hairs hidden in her braid.

Bo-Katan entangles herself from her aunt, but the small smile is still there.

“_Vor entye, ba'vodu_.” _Thank you, aunt_.

Ida Rodarch turns to the rest of us, and we take off our helmets before we bow.

“_Cabure._”

Lord Tobias comes back down the stairs.

“You remember Brant Torrack, I take it, dear.”

“Yes, of course. And Gareth!”

Gareth smiles in his grandfatherly way. “My Lady.”

“And this is Fenn Rau of Skull Squadron. He and Gareth are tasked with Bo-Katan’s protection.”

“My Lady.”

Lady Ida smiles openly at all of us.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s get inside and get you all sorted.”

###

Inside is a maze of rooms and corridors, the people here just as busy as those outside. Lady Ida looks over her shoulder while walking.

“The ground floor is the practical part of the house,” she tells us. “Kitchen, laundry rooms, sparring room, things like that.”

We start to climb stairs to the first floor.

“This floor houses the dining room, library, study, and a music room.”

A music room? I’ve got to see that.

“The library and music room are open to anyone, so feel free to use them as long as you’re here.”

Nice. I’m sure I’ll take her up on the offer.

We go up another flight of stairs to the top floor.

“These are the family’s rooms,” Lady Ida says. “Bo, I gave you Alanna’s old room, if that’s alright with you. It’s the most comfortable one, and the one with the best view.”

Bo-Katan nods. “That’s fine, thanks.”

“There are troop quarters in a building next to this one,” Lord Tobias takes over. “All Protectors will be bunking there for now.”

“As you say, my Lord,” Torrack answers. The man has been in a sour mood since we left Mandalore. Not that I blame him. His job is to protect the ruler, but now our new ruler is off being protected by two _Jetiise_. I guess I’d be pissed, too.

Gareth smiles again. “Those are very comfortable quarters,” he says. “I would know. I lived there for more than twenty years.”

_Fierfek_, he lived here that long? Does this place feel like home to him? Maybe it does. I get the feeling it’s very easy to feel at home here.

Lord Tobias chuckles. “Yes, they are. You want your old quarters back, Gareth?”

“I’ll take what’s there,” Gareth says, waving Lord Tobias off. “They’re all comfortable.”

Lord Tobias smiles, but then his face changes, becoming serious again.

“We should all head down to the study and see where we stand.”

Lady Ida rolls her eyes but smiles and grabs Lord Tobias’s arm.

“I know how important that all is, love, but – and don’t take this personally – you all smell rather strongly.”

“As in?”

“You stink, love. Take a shower.”

Bo-Katan, Gareth and I instinctively snort. Torrack looks insulted.

“What are you all laughing?” Lady Ida says, fixing us with a glare. “You all stink, too.”

Everyone is instantly silent, but now Lord Tobias grins, and Lady Ida can’t keep a straight face either.

“Off you go,” she says, grinning. “I mean it. We can all meet back at the study in half an hour. I don’t think that Vizsla _shabuir_ will come trying to knock down our walls within the next five minutes. Gareth, be so kind as to show Commander Torrack and Fenn Rau the way. Love, you can find your own way. Come on _Bo’ika_, I’ll show you your room.”

Lord Tobias detangles his arm form his wife and motions for us to go back downstairs.

“You heard the lady, off we go.”

We turn around to leave, but I can’t help myself, I look back over my shoulder to Bo-Katan. Our eyes meet for a second and I can see how bad it truly is. Gareth said she let some of it out at Kellali, albeit unwillingly. But there will be more. She lost so many people lately. First her older brother, then her father. And though Calvin and Satine are still alive, there are not here. Calvin is as far away as the sector allows, and Satine is stars know where with two _Jetiise_ Bo-Katan hasn’t even met. No, it’s bad, and it needs to come out.

###

Gareth was right; troop accommodations here are very comfortable. I share a room with Gareth, but it’s rather spacious, with two separate beds and its own ‘fresher. There is a table with a workstation by the window with access to the holonet and everything.

While I wait for Gareth to finish his shower, I check what time it is on Ordo. It’s the middle of the night, and I don’t want to wake _ba’buir_, so I sent her a short voice message, not telling her where I am but that I am no longer in Sundari and that I am alright. My grandmother raised me, and I talk to her when I can.

Gareth showers quickly, and it’s only minutes until I have the ‘fresher to myself. The hot water running down my back may just have been the best thing ever. I could happily stay here for hours, but I know that’s not going to happen. Maybe next time.

I change into my spare clothes and reattach my armor. Gareth motions to a basket next to the door.

“Just throw your dirty stuff in there. It’ll be picked up and washed. You’re stuff’s labeled, right?”

“Sure.” Honestly, it is. We all wear the same gray flight suits underneath; how else would I get one back that actually fits me?

“Then it’ll find its way back to you.”

There’s still a little time left, and I consider just flopping down on the bed for a few minutes. But Gareth has other plans.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s head back.”

I suppress a groan but follow him back outside. As soon as we’re out the door, Gareth gets unusually talkative.

“Kalevala has actual seasons,” he starts out of nowhere while heading toward the main building. “It’s late spring now. Weather’s usually nice this time o’ year. Mostly sunny, and nice temperatures. Summer is nice, too. But it gets hot in the end, making everything dry. Autumn is terrible; rainy and colder. It snows a lot in the winter, but that’s pretty, too, when the sun comes out. But it’s damnably cold.”

“I’ve never seen snow before,” I admit. “Nor a lot of rain.”

“Well, if we’re still here in half a year’s time, you’re gonna see plenty.”

I don’t know if that’s good or bad, really. I want to see it, but if it gets cold and miserable, I’m not so sure.

We enter the main building through a side door and are standing in the kitchen. It’s a busy place, though how they want to feed an army out of this room is beyond me. Gareth smiles knowingly.

“This is just the family’s kitchen. There is a bigger one next to the mess in one of the building we passed earlier.”

I am about to comment, when I hear a woman’s voice yell over the clatter of pots and pants.

“Well, look what the strill dragged in!”

A woman about Gareth’s age ambles toward us. She’s short and a little plump but has a friendly face that’s framed by a mess of short curls mostly gone white.

“Gareth Rant in the flesh, well I’ll be damned,” she says grinning, and pulls Gareth into a hug.

“It’s good to see you, too, Neeka,” Gareth says, patting her back.

“Well, at least they feed you well enough on _Manda’yaim_ I see.”

“I get by.”

The woman, Neeka, makes a non-committing noise and releases Gareth from her hug. She grabs two small rolls off a table and tosses them at us.

“For you and you friend what’s-his-name.”

“Fenn Rau,” I answer.

“Well, nice to meet you, Fenn. Now you both get out of my kitchen so I can work.”

“Yes ma’am,” Gareth says, mockingly saluting her, and pulls me out of the kitchen into the main corridor.

“Is everyone here like this?” I wonder out loud.

“Like what?”

“Cordially rough.”

Gareth laughs out loud. “Mostly.”

We make our way up the stairs munching on the rolls. They are sweet and buttery, and they remind me of _ba’buir_’s cooking.

I realize I have no idea behind which of the doors Lord Tobias’s study is, but Gareth walks straight to a door like he’s still lives here, and I follow him into the right room.

I expect a room like Duke Adonai’s study in the palace, vast and basically empty, but walk into something completely different. The basics are the same; desk, workstation, tactical station, but that’s where the similarities end. This place is _cluttered_. There are shelves with books – real ones, made of flimsy – and piles of flimsies and data pads on the desk. There’s a map of the galaxy and a more detailed one of the sector; hand-drawn, looking as old as if it was made during the time of the Crusaders. And there are pictures; portraits and snapshots, hung on walls and put up on the shelves.

I am startled by a portrait next to the map, thinking at first that it’s a portrait of Bo-Katan. But there are subtle differences; the hair is brown not red, and the face is shaped slightly different.

“My mother.”

The voice of Lord Tobias startles me and I turn around.

“Sorry, my Lord.”

He just shrugs. “Don’t be. The resemblance is startling.”

“That’s an understatement,” his wife says from behind him. “I all but yelped when Bo took off her helmet in the yard. It was like seeing a ghost.”

Gareth chuckles. “They are very alike in many ways,” he says, and Lord Tobias smiles fondly.

“Who?” Bo-Katan is standing in the door, hair still slightly wet from the ‘fresher, and gives us a confused look.

“You and your grandmother,” Lady Ida says. “Around here, that’s like the highest compliment you can get.”

“I’ll take it then.” A small smile ghosts Bo-Katan’s lips, albeit a tired one.

Torrack appears in the door and the atmosphere in the room changes quickly at that. Lorne Karr is right behind him.

“Well, enough small talk. Back to business.” Lord Tobias motions for the tactical station, and we all gather around it. He brings up a map of Sundari.

“As far as we know, Vizsla has now almost full control of the capital. There are some last pockets of resistance, but it is unclear how long they can hold out. Intel indicates that whoever is still fighting back will try to either leave the city or lay low until we arrive with an army to take it back. Vizsla has also started to attack the outposts, but he still lacks the manpower to take them. But that might only be a matter of time, too. So, for now, _Manda’yaim_ appears as lost as it should.

“We will stay in loose contact with the clan chieftains of House Kryze via secure comm links. There can be no other communication. We must assume that communications will be soon be monitored and Vizsla must not know that we are planning a coordinated strike against him.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Torrack interjects, “when will this coordinated strike happen?”

“It won’t happen for a while, that’s for sure,” Karr says, his forehead knotted in concentration. “By the time we have rallied a large enough army, Vizsla will have complete control of _Manda’yaim_.”

“So how?” Torrack asks, his frustration palpable.

“_Ba’slan shev’la_,” Bo-Katan answers him. “That was the plan all along and we are going to stick with it.”

Torrack looks less than enthusiastic. Tobias opens his mouth to say something, but Bo-Katan beats him to it.

“I know you’re frustrated,” she says. “And so am I. Vizsla is responsible for the deaths of my brother and my father. Calvin is at the edge of this galaxy and my older sister, the Duchess of Mandalore, has disappeared with two _Jetiise_. Do you honestly think I want to sit here and be forced to lay low? Do you think anyone here wants that?”

Bo-Katan’s eyes have gone hard, the yellow flecks dangerously prominent. Torrack stares back at her, his dark eyes just as relentless. Maybe he thinks her young and naïve, maybe he thinks her impressionable. But if he does, he doesn’t know her. The seconds tick by as they stare each other down; everyone else in the room holding their breath. In the end, Torrack folds.

“No, my lady. I don’t.”

For just a second, Lord Tobias looks proud before he schools his features back into impassiveness.

“As hard as it is to accept,” Lady Ida picks the briefing back up, “right now, time is our greatest ally. As Lorne said, Vizsla will most likely draw his troops to _Manda’yaim_ to secure his hold on the planet. That is until he realizes that no one is coming to take it from him. He most likely already knows that Adonai is gone, and he will soon enough hear that Satine is not on Kalevala but on the move. But as long as there are still Kryzes around with a claim to the throne, he can’t just sit there and do nothing about it. He doesn’t just want to rule, he wants to be _Mand’alor_. And for that, he must first defeat the current ruler. Satine is beyond his reach right now. He’ll most likely sent bounty hunters after her. But he’ll also try to get her her to come out, try to draw her out. So if he can’t come for her, he’ll come for her clan.”

Gareth has small, wicked smile on his lips. “_Ba’slan shev’la_;” he says. “He’ll have to come to us; fight on our ground and by our rules.”

“Exactly,” Ida confirms.

“He’ll have to stretch thin on a planet neither he nor most of his clan or house have ever been to,” Lord Tobias continues. “Our forces will disperse over the planet and stay on the move. Except Naak, this continent has no larger settlements, and Naak can withstand a siege for quite some time. We’ll stay away from the farms and homesteads as best we can and draw them into the forests, swamps and mountains. Vizsla’s men may be warriors; but fighting in enemy territory without truly knowing the terrain is disheartening and disadvantageous. If we want a chance to weaken his forces, this is it.”

“What about my Protectors?” Torrack wants to know, though he no longer sounds as hostile as before.

“As discussed with her Grace, the Protectors will stay here and help defend the stronghold,” Lord Tobias answers. “Lorne will be in charge of his pilots; you’ll be in charge of Lorne and the remaining Protectors. Alanna and her son will be staying here, making her the highest ranking member of House Kryze to be present.”

“You’ll be out in the field,” Gareth says. It’s not a question, but a statement.

“Yes,” Tobias answers. “And since Ida and I are taking Bo-Katan with us, so will you and Fenn Rau.”

I perk up at the news, and Gareth nods in approval. Karr just shrugs. But Torrack is still not satisfied.

“You can’t take her out in the field. She’s currently the heir to the throne!”

_Fierfek_, I haven’t even thought about that. But I guess she is.

“Which is why she’ll be safer outside these walls,” Lord Tobias counters. “Vizsla knows how protective Adonai was of his children. He’ll expect her to be here. Especially if we keep the Protectors here.”

“We all know what happened last time an heir left with an uncle!”

“That is not-“

“Enough!”

We all turn, looking at Bo-Katan.

“Whatever it is you two personally have against each other; I don’t really care right now. Vizsla’s troops will come and I will not be a sitting nuna!”

She takes a deep breath and turns to Torrack, her voice tightly controlled now. “I know you think me inexperienced, and you are right. But I’m not gonna get any experience by sitting here on my _shebs_. We both know there are things Satine will never be willing to do but that will need to be done. Things that _I_ will have to do for her. And if I don’t get enough experience now, learn what I’ll need to know _now_, then we just might as well let Vizsla have the throne. Because even if we win _this_ war, it will most likely not be the last one we’ll have to fight to keep the throne. We both have our duties, Brant, and I _must_ honor the promise I gave Father.”

_Whatever it is you two personally have against each other_. Yes, that makes sense. Lord Tobias and Torrack seem to try to stay out of each other’s way. But now they are shoved together in this, whether they want it or not. And Bo-Katan is right; she needs the experience rather sooner than too late. _Haran_, I need the experience.

Torrack finally deflates.

“I’m sorry, my Lady,” he says. “You’re right. It’s just…”

“It’s like we’re out of a job,” Karr finishes, sounding strangely defeated. “We are Protectors. It’s our job to defend the throne. Or better said, the rightful ruler. But our rightful ruler is stars know where, and here we are, feeling like headless nuna.”

We all fall silent for a while, not really knowing what to say.

“If I may,” Lady Ida says finally, her voice low and gentle. “None of you have slept much in the last few days, and I doubt any of you ate more then a few bites. Hence, I suggest we take a break and reconvene tomorrow, in hope that cooler heads may prevail. Let’s eat and try to get some sleep. Stars know when any of you will get the chance to sleep in a real bed again.”

Heads are nodded around the tactical station.

“You’re right, dear. We’re all exhausted,” Lord Tobias amends.

I prepare to leave, but apparently, Torrack has one last thing to say.

“Just one question,” he says. “You say you want Vizsla to think that Lady Bo-Katan is here by keeping the Protectors in the stronghold. But somebody is going to spot Rant and Rau running around in our rather distinctive protectoral armor sooner or later and think it odd enough to report.”

Lord Tobias pulls the left corner of his mouth into a wicked-looking half-grin.

“You’re right. Which is why they will not wear their protectoral armor. I am well aware of its symbolism, and I have been around enough Protectors in my life to have at least some idea of what it means to wear it. But it would be a dead give-away. Fortunately, Clan Kryze owes several beskar mines, and I am sure the armorer will have a field day forging new armor instead of just mending and reforging old ones.”

New armor? I don’t really know how to feel about that. It’s a most generous offer, given that armor made out of real beskar is extremely valuable. But Protectors are recruited young, and I have worn this armor for five years now. I never _had_ armor but this one. To leave it here feels almost like betrayal.

I look over at Gareth, and he looks just a thoughtful as I do.

“Does it need to be silver and purple?” he asks.

Tobias frowns, but then shakes his head. “No. Those are the colors of Clan Kryze and I personally have nothing against you wearing them. But it’s your armor and you can color it however you like. If you want to keep it blue to represent reliability, you are welcome to do so.”

Gareth nods. “Alright.”

“Good,” Lady Ida says, sounding almost impatient. “Let’s eat.”

Everyone files out of the study, but I grab Garth’s arm and force him to hang back with me.

“You have no trouble taking off the protectoral armor and exchange it for another?”

Gareth shrugs. “No. Though I’ve worn this armor for what now, forty-five years, give or take? It shows everyone who I am. _A’verd ori’shya beskar’gam_. Is it the armor that makes me a Protector? Or am I a Protector regardless of the armor I wear?”

“Your right,” I admit. “I guess I’ve never thought about it like that, really.”

Gareth gives me a pat on the shoulder and smiles. “But I do know what you mean. And now come on. The accommodation around here is not the only thing that’s good. Let’s eat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our little band of protagonists have a few last breaths in this and the next chapter before the war hits Kalevala, and our young Bo-Katan and Fenn Rau will learn what it truly means to be at war.
> 
> As we'll enter the more rural parts of Kalevala and our protagonists largely surrounded by warriors, the use of Mando'a - at least in between - will get more frequent.
> 
> **Mando'a translations**  
_kom'rk_ \- Gauntlet  
_Naak_ \- Peace  
_mirsh'kyramud_ \- boring person  
_Manda'yaim_ \- the planet Mandalore  
_ad'ika_ \- young one, son, daughter, of any age  
_vor entye_ \- thank you  
_ba'vodu_ \- aunt/uncle  
_cabur(e)_ \- protector(s) (lit.: guardian(s))  
_ba'buir_ \- grandfather/-mother  
_ba'slan shev'la_ \- strategic disappearance  
_shebs_ \- backside, rear, buttocks (ass)  
_haran_ \- hell  
_A'verd ori'shya beskar'gam._ \- But a worriar is more than his armor.
> 
> **Animals**  
_strill_ \- six-legged, forest-dweling, semi-sentient mammal (Mandalore's version of a clever, semi-domesticated hound)  
_nuna_ \- a bird (Naboo's version of a wild chicken)


	11. What defines us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bo-Katan wants to know more about her father and his siblings. Tobias warns her that the past can hurt. Fenn and Gareth struggle with their new armor. And Bo has to deal with the aftermath of her father’s death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We cannot understand the present, if we know nothing about the past.

_What defines me? _It’s a question I started to ask myself lately. A few days ago, I thought I knew the answer to it. I am a warrior; strong, determined. The _beskar’gam_ – my iron skin – is a part of my identity.

And yet here I am, watching Fenn and Gareth being fitted with new armor, both of them struggling with it in their own way. Gareth, who feels almost unprotected without the full encasement of his torso and without the massive shoulder guards, bargaining with the armorer to make it ‘more solid’. And Fenn Rau, who has no trouble adopting to the different shape, but who seems lost none the less.

Their new armor is still shiny; unused and untested. Just the silver-gray of the _beskar_, polished and new.

The armorer, a short but nimble man with fuzzy hair and a permanently surprised look on his face, is currently testing the magnetic seals of Fenn’s armor. But he looks up as I walk in.

“My Lady,” he says, nodding his head. “What can I do for you? Do you need refitting of your armor?”

“No.” Or, maybe? “Do I?”

He looks me up and down with the concentration of a professional.

“No, you’re good,” he says, smiling enigmatically. “What can I do for you then?”

“I was wondering if you had some paint,” I say. “I think it needs a touch-up.”

“Oh, sure,” he says. “There is everything you need in the back room.”

I incline my head and walk past him and his two charges, smiling at them, and enter the back room.

The back room is smaller and smells strongly of paint and turpentine. The wall is hung with different armor designs. I take a look at those and am surprised to find the name _Alanna Kryze_ signed to many of them.

I am amazed at the sheer variety of designs. Some are almost plain while others have lavish patterns and colors.

But I don’t really need that. I don’t want to completely redesign my armor. I just need some fresh paint.

I look at the different colors available. They are all neatly arranged and labeled. Some are just numbered; _Red 1, Red 2, Red 3,_ and so on. Others have additional labels. One of the purples is labeled _Kryze. _Well, that be the one I would be looking for then.

My armor doesn’t have an intricate design. I’m not patient enough for that. My shoulder guards are purple and so are my chest plates, and I just paint a fresh layer of purple over the already existing paint. I also renew the purple on my _buy’ce_. But I don’t repaint the silver parts. They are a bit scratchy, and I think they should stay like that. I wear this armor, and it should look it, even with a bit of fresh paint.

When I am done and waiting for the paint to dry, I take a closer look at aunt Alanna’s designs. I even recognize some of them. Father’s armor, Uncle Tobias’s and Aunt Ida’s. There are concept ideas next to the designs and notes scribbled all over them in Alanna’s miniscule handwriting. Next to Ida’s armor is the picture of an asharl panther, fully colored in their strange fur, and I realize where the additional colors of Aunt Ida’s armor come from.

Aunt Alanna will arrive later today. Maybe I’ll ask her about he designs.

I let my eyes trace over the different paint cans. One of the grays is labeled _Mourning a lost love_, a green called _Duty_, gold _Vengeance,_ and black _Justice_.

I look at the gold again. There is a part of me that wants vengeance for all the loved ones I lost. But I don’t want to repaint my entire armor gold, and yet I like the idea that I could show it through my armor. I look down on myself and realize that I have not taken the chest’s center piece off, the elongated hexagon known as a _Mandalorian Diamond_ or _Iron Heart_. For a second, I think of painting it gold. But do I really want a vengeful heart? No, not really. So where?

I look down on me again, and realize I’ve forgotten to refresh the paint on my gauntlets. I am no artist like Aunt Alanna, but I know an opportunity when I see one. I take the gauntlets off and give them a fresh coat of purple. Once that has dried a little – and thankfully, it dries fast – I take a smaller brush and paint a golden rim along both of them.

I reattach my armor pieces and walk back to the main room. Fenn and Gareth are gone.

“Thank you,” I tell the armorer and he smiles at me.

“Ah,” he says, “I see you added a little detail on your gauntlets. A fitting addition and nicely placed.”

I incline my head and am about to leave when I turn back around.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, my Lady.”

“The paintings in the back, the one’s my aunt made…”

“Ah, yes,” he says, smiling fondly. “Well, your aunt has always been an artist. When she got her own armor, she insisted on painting it herself in a design of her own choosing. She was seven back then, and naturally everybody thought it would be a mess. But your grandmother let her do it anyway, and to everyone’s surprise, it was really good.

“Every time her armor got refitted after a growth spurt, she’d paint it new. And she got very good at it. So good in fact, that your father and uncle insisted she paint theirs. And then people started to ask her if she had an idea for their armor, and that’s when she started to seriously design them. I think it was her way to combine her artistic talents with your grandfather’s strict adherence to the _Resol’nare_. She only began to seriously paint after Duke Argaeus had died.”

I frown. There is so much I don’t know about my family.

“Thank you again,” I tell the armorer and leave for the yard.

###

The yard is full of warriors training, but I spot neither Fenn Rau nor Gareth among them. I do spot Aunt Ida though, talking to Lorne Karr, both pressed close to the wall of a building in order to stay out of the way.

I only catch the last few bits of the conversation as I get closer.

“…were friends, and Brant has a long memory.”

Are they talking about Uncle Tobias and Brant Torrack? There is a story there, I know it. It’s yet another piece of the past I don’t know about.

Aunt Ida smiles and waves me over.

“Hey there, _ad’ika_,” she says. “What are you up to?”

I shrug. “I refreshed the painting on my armor and was actually looking for Gareth and Fenn Rau.”

“They’re in the sparring room inside,” Lorne Karr says grinning, pointing toward the main building with his thumb. “I don’t think they wanted to look like shinies in their new armor. But they need to train in it to get a better feel for it. And I agree that that’s better done away from prying eyes.”

I nod but can only half suppress a grin.

###

I lean against the doorframe of the sparring room, watching Fenn Rau and Gareth have a go at each other. Their movements are still a little awkward, but they are getting a feel for their new armor rather quickly.

They don’t seem to notice me at all, and so I just watch them.

In the last two months, I’ve been the one to usually spar with Fenn, and I don’t recall having seen him spar with someone else. I know how he fights against me, a person who is smaller and lighter, but also a bit quicker. His technique against Gareth is different. Fenn is still the taller of the two, but Gareth weighs a lot more than I do and has a lot more leverage and strength.

It’s fascinating to watch them. Fenn is good. Really good. But every time I think he’s got Gareth backed into a corner, Gareth manages to get the upper hand back. They are both equally skilled, and it all comes down to tenacity versus experience.

And then, suddenly and almost unexpected, Fenn is on the ground on his back, swearing colorfully in Concordian.

Gareth holds out a hand and helps Fenn back to his feet.

“Where did that leg come from?” Fenn asks, clearly puzzled.

Gareth chuckles but beckons with a hand for Fenn to come closer.

“Come here,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

They still haven’t noticed me, and I watch them for a few more moments, awarded with a glimpse into the past. In my mind’s eye, a picture starts to form of a younger Gareth Rant, teaching Uncle Tobias how to counter that same move in this very room, with my Aunt Alanna standing in the doorway, watching the same way I do know.

I turn around and leave them be, climbing the stairs to Tobias’s study. The door is open, like all doors in this place seem to be open most of the time. Uncle Tobias is sitting at his desk, reading on a data pad, his brow furrowed in concentration. But he looks up when he hears me come in, and his face morphs into a bright smile.

“What can I do for you, _Bo’ika_?”

I take a deep breath. “It may sound a bit weird,” I begin, “but could I just look at the pictures? Father didn’t really have any around except one of Mother on his nightstand.”

Tobias cocks his head and studies me for a second.

“Fresh paint?”

I shrug. “Seemed like a good time for it.”

Tobias nods. “Seen Gareth and Fenn Rau?”

“Yes. They’re…adjusting.”

“I bet.” Tobias motions for the shelves. “You want to just look, or do you want me to tell you something about them?”

“Just look, for now.”

“Alright,” Tobias says, and focusses his attention back on the data pad.

I walk around looking at the pictures. I’m not so much interested in the portraits, but the snapshots that are everywhere. They are windows to the past. There is one of Father and his siblings; Father is about my age and they are all goofing around, making faces at the camera. I have never seen Father like that; almost carefree. There is another one of Father, fully armored and with a Protector standing next to him. I have to look twice, but then I am sure it’s Torrack. They both look about to be in their early thirties, when Father had already ascended to the throne. There is one of Mother, flanked by Dorian and Satine, and with two small toddlers on her lap. Calvin and me, I realize. And then one that looks eerily like an older version of myself, but with brown hair. Bo-Katan Cadera is sitting cross-legged on a mossy rock in a forest, a piece of uj cake in one hand, laughing at the camera. Not smiling politely, no, a real laugh, crinkly eyes and all.

“When was this taken?” I ask out loud, though I had no intention to, really.

Uncle Tobias stands from his desk and comes up next to me.

“About a year before she died,” he says. “On a hunting trip in the forests north of here.”

“Gareth said she died of an undiagnosed aneurism during a hunting trip.”

Tobias heaves a breath. “Yes. It happened so quickly. She just collapsed and never regained consciousness. When help finally arrived, it was already too late. She was already gone.”

“I’m sorry.” I mean it.

“I guess the hardest thing was that she was still so young,” Tobias continues. “And that there was no one to blame. But it could have been worse, I guess. She loved the forest and she loved hunting. She was with people she loved and who loved her. She missed Adonai, but apart from that, she was happy.”

The last statement makes me frown. “She missed her son,” I repeat. “But she didn’t miss her husband.”

Tobias looks at me. “Perceptive as always,” he says, smiling a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, I don’t think she did. Like many marriages in Mandalore’s upper class, that of my parents was arranged. I think they tried as best as they could, and they were never really _unhappy_, but…they weren’t in love either. They found their own arrangements over time.”

I nod, understanding vaguely what Uncle Tobias might mean by that. Then I sigh.

“There is so much I don’t know about my family,” I say, slowly working my way up to the point I want to make.

“And you want to know more.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Yes. I feel like I need to know more.”

Tobias raises his eyebrows, truly intrigued. “And why is that?”

“The past is always useful it one wants to understand the present.”

“True,” Tobias agrees. “But that’s not all.”

“No. So many people I feel I should know were gone before I was even born. Or died so young that I have hardly any reliable memory of them. Even mother. It’s not like I don’t have memories of her, on the contrary. But I was thirteen when she died. And I feel there is much I don’t know about her or did not understand about her at the time.”

Tobias nods. “There are many people around here who can tell you stories about basically anyone you want to know more about.”

I sigh, almost frustrated. “I guess so, but…I’m not looking for _stories_. Stories are mostly told affectionately, glossed over by time. I’m trying to _understand_.”

Now it’s Tobias’s turn to sigh. “Sit down, Bo, will you?”

He motions for a chair and I sit down in it. Tobias leans on his desk, arms folded over his chest.

“It’s an honorable goal, _Bo’ika_, to want to understand. And though there is much to learn from the past, the past can also hurt you. There is a kindness in only knowing the stories instead of knowing what really happened.”

“I understand that, Uncle. But if I am to fulfil my role, I _need_ to know. It’s nice to know fluffy stories, but I need to know more. I need to know why people act the way they do; why they trust each other, love each other, hate each other, carry grudges…How else am I to understand their motivations or anticipate their reaction?”

Tobias still looks undecided.

“You’ve got a smart one there,” Aunt Ida’s voice comes from behind me.

Tobias’s head snaps up and I turn around. Ida is leaning against the door frame, looking at us.

“Ida-“

“She is right, Tobias. And you know it.”

Tobias sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

Ida walks into the room and up to Tobias. She loosens his folded arms and takes his hands.

“_Bic cuyir ca'nara, cyar’ika. Bal aaray cuyir kis'wa be oyay_.” _It is time, love. And pain is part of life._

Tobias let’s his head hang slightly, but then touches his forehead to Ida’s. It’s a gesture so intimate that I feel like an intruder. Aunt Ida continues.

“_Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. Bal ni kar'taylir gar aaray de jii._“ _I love you. And I already know your pain._

Tobias takes a deep breath. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles, but I hear it.

“But you do,” Ida says back, just as quietly.

She gives Tobias a small kiss on his forehead and releases his hands. Then she turns to me.

“Come on, _Bo’ika_. Let’s have Tobias figure out how to give you a lesson in family history without given you a six-semester lecture and without giving you the impression that this family is completely _dini'la_. And Alanna and Alrich have just arrived. Let’s break it to your aunt that I gave a way her room.”

She pulls me up from the chair and out of the room, cheerfully chatting away. But I look back at Tobias. He’s deep in thought and looks somewhat troubled, and for the first time, I fear the answers the past might hold.

###

Alanna thankfully has no problem with me staying in her room, and she and Alrich move into Tobias’s and Father’s old rooms. I watch Alanna unpack as a sudden inspiration hits me.

“Alanna?”

“Yes?”

“You used to paint armor, right? I’ve seen the pictures in the armorer’s back room.”

Alanna cocks her head. “He still has those?”

I nod my head. “They’re amazing.”

“Well, thank you. It was my way to be creative without my Father throwing a hissy fit.”

“So I’ve heard. Do you still do it? Design armor, I mean.”

“No, not really. Why? You need yours spiffed up?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine with mine. I like how it is. I’m not into fancy.”

Alanna grins. “You don’t say. So, why do you ask?”

“My Protectors got new armor to not broadcast they _are_ Protectors to the enemy. But they struggle with it. Not just the unusual feel, but…I don’t know. It’s like they wear someone else’s clothes.”

Alanna looks thoughtful, but nods. “I can imagine. The protectoral armor is unique these days, many of its features a direct remnant of the Crusaders’ era. Its symbolism is strong and deeply rooted in tradition. You can’t just replace that.”

Alanna looks thoughtful for a moment. “You want me to paint their armor, don’t you?”

I rock my head from side to side. “No, not exactly. I want them to paint their own armor. But I would appreciate it if you could talk to them and maybe help them develop an idea of how that could look.”

“Gareth and Fenn Rau, right?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to them. See if we can figure something out.”

###

The next two days, I spend either in the yard, the sparring room, or following Tobias or Ida around as they oversee preparations. It’s good to get my mind off things.

I always thought that Tobias’s and Ida’s marriage had been arranged just as my parents’. But watching them is different than I remember my parents act around each other. My parents were happy, I still think that, but they were never affectionate in public. It was something they reserved for being alone or being around us children. But Tobias and Ida don’t seem to need that sort of familiar privacy. I mean, it’s not like they are snogging around or something. It’s small things; taking the other’s hand or a small peg. I guess it’s just another piece of family history I am not privy to.

Despite Kalevala being so very different from Mandalore, and the family stronghold being run totally different than the Sundari palace, being in the yard gives me a sense of familiarity, of belonging. To see warriors in purple and gray armor train, occasionally sparring against a willing Protector, is a sight I know. Something I know how to navigate. Ida and Tobias are both down here occasionally, right smack in the middle, and I spar against Tobias for the first time in my life. I am fairly certain that the only reason I manage to last longer than a minute is because I sparred against Gareth before, and hence am familiar with some of Tobias’s technique.

I also spar with Gareth and Fenn Rau. But they are not yet ready for the yard. Well, that sounds wrong. They are as good as ever, but they don’t feel like it yet. But I’ve seen Alanna talk to them, and I hope they’ll figure out how to reconcile their new armor with their protectoral duty.

Keeping busy helps to keep my mind occupied. At least during the day. During the night, not so much. That’s when my thoughts and dreams travel to Father. How much closer our relationship was when Mother was still alive, how he changed after her death, and how he died himself. The second night, the pictures make me wretch. I wake up and it just happens. I want to comm Satine, only to remember where I am and that Satine isn’t here. That brings on another wave of loss and I have to throw up again immediately.

In the palace, nobody would have noticed. At least I think so. But here, there are suddenly people around me. Not servants, no. Aunt Alanna and Aunt Ida, their voices low and soothing, without judgement, just compassion.

My mind doesn’t register everything that happens. I know they help clean me up, but it’s all a blur. They talk in _Mando’a_, rhythmic and undulating, though the words don’t make sense to me, but they are comforting none the less. At one point, I am picked up and carried out of the room. I know it’s Uncle Tobias, even though my eyes fall closed on their own account. He lays me down in another bed and pulls the covers over me. I hear a chair being pulled up next to the bed and feel his warm and strong hand close over mine, the other pushing a stray strand of hair out of my face.

“_Bic cuyir an staabi, ner adiik_,” I hear him say. “_Nuhoy jii_.” _It’s alright, my child. Sleep now._

And I do.

###

When I wake up, I feel strangely light. The bed I’m in is unfamiliar, and yet not. I sit up and look around. Tobias’s and Ida’s bedroom isn’t all that big. Much smaller than my room at the palace. But cozy, and maybe a little untidy.

The door opens slowly, and Aunt Alanna sticks her head in.

“Hey there, kiddo,” she says. “How are you?”

“Better. I think.”

Alanna comes in, carrying my armor and spare clothes.

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling embarrassed.

But Alanna just shrugs and sits down on the edge of the bed.

“_Bo’ika_, you’ve been through a lot,” she says. “Quite frankly, I’d be worried if you could just shrug it off.”

Her gaze softens then, and she smiles a sad smile. “I remember my mother’s death as clearly as if it happened yesterday. And I miss her. More then twenty years, and I still miss her. But it doesn’t hurt that much anymore. And it doesn’t overwhelm me anymore. But it did. The first few nights, I saw her drop to the ground every night in my sleep. Father wasn’t home, and Tobias was as distraught as I was. I remember being unable to stop crying. I just couldn’t, and it felt like I would suffocate. I remember Gareth sitting by my bed night after night, holding me until I could breathe again. It is only right to mourn the ones we love, _Bo’ika_. There is no shame in that.”

I don’t know what to say, but maybe being around family means I don’t have to say anything.

###

I dress and go back to my room to brush my teeth. There is a knock on the door, though I left it ajar, like I’ve seen all doors here open unless you truly want privacy.

“Come in,” I call from the ‘fresher, rinsing my mouth and walk into the bedroom.

Fenn Rau is standing in it, looking a little lost, carrying a tray.

“Tea and flatbread,” he says. “Courtesy of Neeka.”

“Thank you,” I say, taking the tray from him and putting it on the small table by the window. Ida was right, the view is breathtaking.

I frown at the food and drink in front of me.

“Why is it that people over thirty always make tea when something happens?” I wonder out loud.

Fenn Rau comes up next to me, looking down at the tray himself.

“I don’ know,” he says, frowning. But then his face morphs into a fond smile. “But _ba’buir_ would bring me exactly the same whenever I had an _osik’la_ day. Who knows? Twenty years from now, and we might recommend tea as the remedy for everything from sore throats to broken hearts.”

I snort out a soft laugh. An honest laugh. “Maybe,” I concede.

I pick up some of the soft bread and pull it apart, offering a piece to Fenn Rau. “Want some?”

He looks surprised for a second but takes it none the less. We munch our bread in silence for a few moments before I notice something.

“You painted your armor,” I state.

Fenn looks down on himself and shrugs. “Lady Alanna was very helpful,” he says. “Thank you.”

Now it’s my turn to shrug. “I figured it might. Would you tell me? What it means? The coloring?”

“Blue is for reliability. It’s why protectoral armor is blue. This is a few shades darker, but the meaning is the same. The red diamond is for honoring a parent, though in my case grandparent. My grandmother raised me. She’s the only related family I have left.”

“And the white?”

His cheeks color a little.

“It’s just because it looks nice, isn’t it?” I ask with a grin.

Fenn shrugs, half embarrassed.

It does look nice, though. The armor’s dark blue sets off his bright blue eyes, the white lines breaking the otherwise solid blue surface, hinting at his body’s features that are hidden by the beskar and the sturdy fabric underneath. The red diamond in the center practically seems to glow in a sea of blue.

“I like it,” I say. “It suits you.”

My fingers twitch, and I have to fight the urge to place my hand on his chest plate.

I am saved by Gareth sticking his head through the door. He, too, has painted his armor. It is now mostly blue and green, reliability and duty.

“You want to come down for the briefing?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, taking another sip of tea. Dang, that stuff really does help. “Let’s go.”

###

The briefing this morning is crowded as there are several senior warriors of Clan Kryze present who will each lead their own troops that will disperse all over the continent. There is a lot of chatter; some people seem to haven’t seen each other in quite a while and are eager to catch up. What surprises me is the number of people who talk to Gareth. Although on second thought… He was grandmother’s Protector. I guess he was around a lot.

I wonder if people will look at Fenn Rau the same way forty years from now; and stop myself. When this war is over – and should we win it – Fenn will go back to Concord Dawn with his squadron. And he should. He’s a pilot; a damn good one from what I hear, and he shouldn’t spend his days trailing after me.

The thought makes me feel strangely forlorn. In just two months’ time, he’s become such a normal part of my days, and I think I will miss him when we have to back to normal one day.

Tobias manages to quiet down the room to a level that he can actually make himself be heard.

“_Verda, burc'yase_. I know you are all eager to catch up, but that will have to wait until later I’m afraid. There are things we need to discuss.”

“Sorry, my Lord,” one of the older warriors says. “We are all eager to make a dent in some Vizsla _aruetiise buy’cese_.”

“And you will get the chance,” Tobias says, causing the warriors to nod their heads in eager anticipation. “But planning comes first. Vizsla’s men will have to fight on territory they don’t know, but we do. That is our advantage. You were chosen to lead our warriors in this fight because no one knows our continent and planet better than you. You will each receive a list of warriors that will be under your command within the hour. It is your task to make sure your companies and squads have everything they need to fight this war on our own turf. We are fully stocked, and you should find everything you need or desire.

“With the list of warriors, you will also receive you first location. As usual, your movements after that are by your own choice. You will each be given a secure comm link so you can regularly forward us your position. If two or more groups get too close together, we will intervene. Otherwise, we trust in your abilities and will leave you to it. Any questions?”

“When do we leave?” an older woman in fiercely painted armor asks.

“Two days from now. That should give you enough time.”

Heads are nodded around the table.

“Well then,” someone says. “What are we standing around here for again?”

Everyone looks at Tobias, who just smiles.

“Beats me,” he says, grinning and motioning for the door. “There’s the exit.”

Everyone laughs; a hearty laugh, catching, and even I have to chuckle a little.

Tobias’s face grows earnest in a matter of seconds. “No, honestly, there’s the door. Why are you all still standing here?”

“Because we make for such a pretty picture,” someone says. “Gareth, where is that camera of yours? This need to be commemorated!”

Gareth looks pointedly at the speaker. “Honestly, Roland, I don’t think my poor camera could take your face today.”

The room erupts into laughter again. Fenn and I look at each other, uncertain of what to do. But Tobias is laughing, too.

“Well, it’s good to be back and kick some Vizsla _shebs’e_ again. Let’s go.”

Everyone files out of the room then, and I look at Tobias, who just shrugs and grins.

“Get used to it, _ad’ika_,” he says, and I would very much like to.

###

The last night at the stronghold is something else. Something I have never seen, only heard about.

There is a huge bonfire in the yard, its flickering flames and some torches here and there the only light. And in the free space, neatly lined up, a large group of warriors of House Kryze and Protectors, the flames reflecting of their armor. It’s mostly the older ones, with us younger ones watching in awe, as they chant the _Dha Werda Verda_.

I have never seen the likes of it. They seem to move as one. One voice, one mind, and one purpose. I watch as Uncle Tobias, Aunt Ida and Gareth become specks in a sea of armor, single beings among many and yet integral to the whole.

_So, what defines us? What defines me?_ Is it my family’s history? The armor I wear? That is all part of it, yes. But much more, it is what’s at the heart of it all: the people around me. My family here as it is, _aliit_. The parts of my family that are not with me, just in my heart, like Cal and Satine. People like Gareth and Fenn Rau, who I’ve formed connections with. And the people whose souls live on beyond this world and beyond this life, whose memory is part of my own soul now.

And with that in mind, I let the spectacle wash over me, and though I am uprooted in many ways, and maybe truly for the first time in my life, I feel like I belong.

###

I am awake early the next morning. So early that hardly anyone is awake yet. Even the kitchen is still almost empty, with only Neeka and another woman starting the day’s work.

I get a mug of caf from them and step out into the yard. Without its daily bustle, the yard is eerily quiet. This morning, a slight fog billows over it, at the same time dampening and sharpening the sounds of early morning. I sit down on the stairs, reveling in the quiet before the storm.

After a few minutes, Uncle Tobias – a pathological early riser, I have learned – sits down next to me. He has his own cup of caf and a data pad in his hand. He hands me the pad.

“My mother kept a journal,” he says, his eyes fixed on some far point of the yard. “She did it the old way, handwritten in books of empty flimsy. About a year after her death, I digitalized them. The originals are kept in the family archives. There was a note in them, making it clear that she wanted them passed on to me. And that I was free to read them. I did and found it…painful. But also enlightening. I picked the habit of journaling up from her as a child.”

He takes a deep breath and looks at me, his eyes a mossy green, almost devoid of yellow, and full of an old pain.

“There are Mother’s journals on the pad, as well as mine. You are free to read them.”

I gape at him, and Tobias smiles softly.

“You wanted history, not stories. Those pages are full of it. The good and the bad parts.”

I look at the pad. “Thank you,” is all I can say.

“But I am warning you again, Bo-Katan,” Tobias says, his voice earnest and imploring. “You will find answers and truths in there. Some of them beautiful and heartening. But they are personal accounts, sometimes blunt and without any filter. Some truths are harsh and painful. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.”

“But can I afford to be ignorant?”

There is a long pause. “I wish you could,” Tobias answers.

We fall silent again. There is nothing more to say. So we sit here, on the stone steps facing the yard, as Kalevala slowly comes to life around us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations**
> 
> _beskar_ \- mandalorian iron  
_beskar'gam_ \- armor (lit. iron skin)  
_buy'ce(se)_ \- helmet(s)  
_dini'la_ \- insane, crazy  
_verd(a)_ \- warrior(s) (archaic plural ending on -a instead of -e or -se)  
_burc'ya(se)_ \- friend(s)  
_aruetii(se)_ \- traitor(s)  
_shebs'e_ \- butt(s), ass(es)  
_aliit_ \- clan, family
> 
> **Notes:**  
I've re-read the older chapters and found a lot of typos and wrong grammer. I am not a native speaker, so if you see something that's wrong or doesn't make sense, feel free to point it out.


	12. Hunter and prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrill of the hunt and three birthday presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first small part of this chapter plays in Sundari, and we are inside the head of a young Pre Vizsla. On Kalevala, we switch back to Bo’s POV. We also start to get glimpses into the past through the journals.

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_Expectation and reality are two very different things. To be married to the heir to the throne sounds terribly romantic…but it isn’t. Argaeus and I get a long fairly well, that’s not it. But he is away a lot, and I am suddenly in charge of an entire household. Argaeus spends much time on Manda’yaim, aiding his father, and it seems all the administrative tasks that Kalevala has to offer have somehow fallen to me. There simply seems to be no one else to do them._

_But I don’t want to complain about it. It keeps me busy, which is good. I have seen my own mother rule Clan Cadera, and I’ve learned a lot from her. So, I’ve created a routine. I’m an early riser, and I am one of the first people up in the morning. I eat breakfast and then settle behind the large desk that technically belongs to the head of Clan Kryze, but I guess I’m filling that position when everyone else is away, so… Anyway, I go through the daily mess that is running a clan and a planet. And though it is largely sitting at a desk and talking to people, it’s exhausting. Not physically, of course, but mentally._

_And it gets to me. I feel caged in a way I never have before. And the fact that, as the wife of the future Mand’alor, I have been assigned a Protector who’s trailing behind me wherever I go, is not helping either. At least he’s the silent kind. Observant, but silent._

_But he hadn’t been silent today. Today, he closed the door to the study – something that is basically never done in this house as I’ve learned – and asked if there is anything he can do to make me feel better. I had no answer for him, really. But he seemed to have one ready for that case. He suggested that we spar in the mornings; early, if that’s what I’d prefer. He said that I gave the impression that I needed to blow off some steam. Maybe he is right. I haven’t sparred with anyone since I got here, and I do miss it. So, tomorrow, I will go and knock Gareth Rant on his shebs._

**###**

**Sundari**

Great-uncle Tor is furious. Because of some insolent, little, pacifist girl.

When Uncle had found out about Adonai Kryze’s body, bled to death in a hallway, he had laughed. It was almost too easy to overrun these _dar’mandala_ pacifists.

First, we thought that the Kryze children had escaped on the Duke’s _kom’rk_. Uncle had sent bounty hunters after it. But they had been led on a wild nuna chase, until the _kom’rk_ was found abandoned somewhere on the edge of the mid-rim, where the trail seemed to end in the middle of nowhere.

Then, a thorough shakedown of some very young, very inexperienced guard at Kellali had yielded disturbing news. Apparently, at least the two daughters had made it to Kellali, and Satine Kryze had been taken aboard a Jedi freighter. _Jedi!_ Uncle’s first thought was that she had been taken to Coruscant, but our spies there said they never arrived.

But then…then Satine Kryze had resurfaced. And she hadn’t left the sector.

It was such a short message she sent, broadcasted over the entire sector. Looking directly into the holo cam and telling everyone that she lived, that she was in the Mandalore sector, that the throne was rightfully hers, and that House Kryze would reclaim it.

Bounty hunters had been sent after her again, only to return empty-handed. Well, one of them returned. The other three had died at the hands of the Jedi. It is disgraceful. Uncle had let the survivor talk until he had all the information he needed. And then he had shot him. It was a message for all the others to either return with Satine Kryze, or not to return at all.

Uncle had laughed at the little Kryze’s threat but had drawn a large part of our warriors to _Manda’yaim_. But nothing happened. Two weeks, and not a single Kryze scout ship or supporter had been seen on, or in the vicinity of, the planet.

Three days ago, that little annoying brat had sent a new message; broadcasted again over the whole sector, taunting us with the bounty hunters’ failed attempts to capture or kill her.

But this time, Uncle hadn’t let it pass. This time, he had answered. Broadcasted all over the sector, too, telling Satine to come out and surrender, or be killed along with her allies.

He hadn’t gotten an answer, and that annoying girl hadn’t shown up either. So, Uncle send out a new message. If you don’t come out, we will go after the ones you claim will fight for you. We’ll go after House Kryze. And we are going to start at the heart of it. Our warriors will take Kalevala.

###

**Kalevala – two days earlier**

We’ve been out in the Kalevala forests for two weeks now, and so far, it feels more like an out-of-control camping trip. We have moved to our designated spot, put up camp, and waited. And waited. And waited.

But I guess it’s not necessarily bad. It gave everyone a chance to find their place. Who does the cooking, who does the dishes, who does the laundry? Well, I am glad that those chores passed me by. Not that I wouldn’t do them, but I’m just not good at those things. No, I have a far better one.

With everyone trying to avoid eating rations – they taste yucky and you never know when we’ll actually need them – it was deemed sensible to hunt and forage when possible. And it was absolutely possible in the last two weeks.

I have never hunted in a wood before, and the first few times, Fenn Rau and I were only allowed to watch. Perched on some tree, motionless and yet excited, we observed Uncle Tobias and Gareth.

Tobias had said that my grandmother had loved hunting in the forest, and she clearly had installed the same love in him. And I guess Gareth as her Protector had been dragged along every single time. They are a dangerously effective team.

###

It’s early evening now, and I sit by one of the fires, eating leftovers from today’s hunt, together with freshly baked bread and wild berries. It’s the most delicious food I’ve ever had. Fenn Rau and Gareth are sitting on either side of me, munching away on their own plates in companionable silence. That is until Uncle Tobias comes up to us and tells us to scoot over so he can sit between Fenn and me.

I am almost annoyed, until Tobias pulls out several small darts and hands six to me and six to Fenn.

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning, an hour before sunrise,” he says. “Get enough rest.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

Tobias puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. I have grown used to his fatherly affection. It’s such a contrast to my actual father. Not that Father was unaffectionate, he just never showed it publicly. Tobias on the other hand seems to have no trouble with it. And neither does Aunt Ida. They would have made good parents, I think, if they’d had children.

I lean into Tobias, letting my head rest on his shoulder guard. The two messages Satine had sent are still on my mind. She’d looked good in both, fierce almost. I guess the _Jetiise_ are doing a credible job of protecting her. Probably much to Torrack’s chagrin.

Tor Vizsla’s answer is on my mind, too. But for now, I am confident that Satine and her Jedi protectors will keep eluding them. After Vizsla’s message, Uncle Tobias said that it won’t be long now until the war will pick up pace and those _aruetiise_ will come and wage war on the clans of House Kryze.

“When this is all over,” Tobias says, bringing me back to the here and now, “remind me to take you on a real hunting trip, _Bo’ika_. It’s a lot more relaxing without having to wonder when enemy troops are going to finally land.”

“I’d like that.”

We stare at the fire for a few more moments. Then Uncle Tobias starts talking again.

“These woods used to be a refuge for us,” he says. “An escape from the stronghold, from expectations, from duty. We’d sit by the fire like this, and my mother would tell stories about heroes from ages past or folk tales from her own planet.”

Tobias chuckles, and nudges Gareth’s arm with a loose fist. “Gareth on the other hand would tell creepy stories, that made me and Alanna huddle closer to _buir_. If there is anything like true freedom, I think I had it during those rare days out here.”

I smile at the mental picture of a young Tobias and Alanna, huddled in a blanket by the fire, being tucked into their mother’s side just like I am tucked into Tobias’s right now.

“I’ve started to read her journal,” I say. “She felt a bit…left alone when she got here. Do you think she really was?”

“I don’t know,” Tobias answers. “All I have, too, are her journals.”

I turn my head to look at Gareth. “But you were there,” I say. “She wrote that it was your idea to spar so she could blow off steam.”

Gareth snorts out a soft laugh. “Well, to answer your first question, my Lady: Yes, she was left alone a bit. Not out of ill will or something, it was just how it was – how it always had been. Your great-grandparents had lived that way; with the _Mand’alor_ in Sundari and his wife on Kalevala. And honestly, I don’t think anybody really expected your grandmother to pick up the slack, she just did. Quite frankly, I think your grandfather was rather surprised when he found his newly wedded wife had taken up residence in his study and was practically running his clan.

“But it got to her. She was in a foreign place without family, without friends. I think she kept busy so she wouldn’t have to think too much about it. I could relate, I felt much the same. I was born on Kalevala, so it wasn’t all that foreign to me, but I, too, was left without my usual peers in a place I hardly knew. But at least I had the other warriors in the yard. I figured it might be good for her to find something familiar, even if she was far away from home.”

“She wanted to knock you on your _shebs_,” I recount. “Did she?”

Gareth laughs. “Yes, she did. But I think we kept the score pretty level over the years.”

I chuckle, and I feel Uncle Tobias laugh, too, and see Fenn grin out of the corner of my eye.

After a few moments, we settle back into comfortable silence, watching the fire as the sky slowly goes dark.

“_Ba’vodu_?” I ask. I don’t know why I use the Mando’a word for Uncle, really, but it seems the right word to use.

“Mm?”

“Do you still remember the stories _ba’buir_ told you?”

I feel Tobias shift to look down at me. “Most, yes. My favorites best, of course.”

“Would you tell one?”

I look up at him. How can someone smile benignly, and yet still look sad? But Tobias does, and I wonder what memory I might accidently have triggered that would cause him joy and sadness at the same time.

He looks back at the fire, lost in thought for a moment, and I am about to apologies for intruding, but then he clears his throat.

“I think I thought of one you might like,” he says, and starts to tell the story.

And he is an extraordinary storyteller. It is like his low, melodical baritone is painting pictures before my eyes of heroes from the past; of wisdom and war, love and betrayal, birth and death.

It is already growing dark when Tobias finishes, but it feels like no time has passed at all.

“I didn’t know that story,” I tell him. “And you were right, I liked it a lot.”

Tobias smiles down at me. “I thought you probably didn’t know it. I think _buir_ said it originates from Ordo.”

“It does,” Fenn Rau says, and I straighten up to look at him. “It’s originally a ballad for Mandoviol and extremely popular on Ordo. But, since most people don’t play the Mandoviol, it’s mostly told as story.”

“Have you ever seen it performed as a ballad?” Tobias asks.

Fenn cocks his head from side to side. “Not really _performed_ in the classical sense of the word. I was raised by my grandmother and she is an instrument maker. She plays extraordinary well and tests her own instruments by playing at least one long ballad on each of them before she delivers them to her customers.”

“Can you play?” I ask, intrigued by this bit of personal information.

Fenn shrugs. “I can play,” he says. “But not like _ba’buir_.”

I raise my eyebrows. If Fenn Rau, who tends to get a bit overconfident in his abilities, acknowledges his grandmother’s skill like that, she must be really good.

I remember Fenn humming under his breath on the way to Kellali, and I still want to call him out on his words, now more than ever. _Some other time._ I’ll hold you to that, Fenn Rau.

###

I step out of my tent into the quiet of our camp. Gareth and Fenn emerge from the tent to my left. It is still dark as we pick our way to the edge of camp, the night vision the only thing keeping us from running into things.

Tobias is already waiting for us. He indicates for us to follow him, and we set off into the woods.

We don’t talk, just walk in a single file, with Tobias leading the way. I let the sounds of night and forest stream into my helmet’s comm system unfiltered; the rustling of our footsteps in the dry leaves, the scurrying of smaller mammals hiding from our presence, and the occasional hooting of an owl.

After about half an hour, Tobias lifts his hand to stop us. He crouches down and examines the forest floor.

“Come here, take a look,” he says, waving us over.

We all look over his shoulder. It’s almost impossible to see, but there, half a foot in front of Tobias’s knee, is a slight indentation. A hoofprint in the soft soil of a game trail.

“About a day old,” Gareth says. “If we follow it, we should soon hit a clearing or a stream.”

Uncle Tobias straightens up, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck left and right.

“_Olaror bat,_” he says. “_Oya!_” _Come on. Let’s hunt!_

I watch Uncle Tobias and Gareth lead the way. There is something about the way they move that changes when they hunt. Their posture, their gait; predators stalking their prey. Though in our case, the prey is most likely behind us.

Gareth was right. We reach a large clearing only fifteen minutes later.

“Wind’s steady from the west,” Gareth says. “Let’s go look for a good position in the east, then.”

We leave the game trail and round the clearing, looking for a good spot to lie and wait. We find two; one on the ground, the other up in a group of trees.

“You’ll take the ground I take it?” Tobias asks Gareth. I can’t see his face behind his visor, but I can hear the smirk.

“Damn sure I will,” Gareth replies. “Come on, Fenn, let’s get comfortable.”

Gareth pulls Fenn toward a more or less soft looking spot behind a large fallen tree partially overgrown with saplings.

“Come on, _Bo’ika_,” Tobias says, nudging my arm. “Let’s climb a tree, shall we?”

I grin, though he can’t see it behind my visor. “Let’s.”

We find a few halfway comfortable branches that support our weight and sit down on them.

Tobias leans his head against the tree trunk.

“As frustrating as it is,” I hear him over a private comm channel, “the war will be much like this. There will be no grand battles just yet. It will be a lot of hiding and stalking, long stretches of boredom, and then a handful of minutes of sheer adrenaline.”

I consider his words. “It’s like you said,” I answer finally. “Civil wars are won by those with the longer endurance, not by those with the most daring approach. We set out to play the long game, didn’t we?”

“Yes, we did.”

We go back to waiting in silence. After a few minutes, I notice that the sky is half a shade lighter than before. Dawn is coming. Triggered by the faint light, the birds start chirping, announcing the new day to every creature in these woods.

I have lived on _Manda’yaim_ my whole life. I’ve visited other places, sure. I’ve been to Kalevala before, and I’ve been on Vorpa’ya to see Mother’s side of the family. But my usual environment is the domed city of Sundari, or the yellow-white sand of the barren plains. It’s not that _Manda’yaim_ is without life. It is there, hidden in caves and dens; places where there is enough water to still sustain vegetation. It’s bugs and worms and small lizards.

Kalevala is full of life. Bugs, fish, birds, mammals small and large; it’s all there, all in a variety I’ve never thought possible. And the colors! Green, brown, red, yellow; even the blue of the rivers and lakes and the sky.

I look at the clearing; the high, green grass swaying softly in the breeze, a shallow mist clinging to it, slowly moving with the wind. And then I see movement on the other side of the clearing. Slowly, very slowly, a single deer is emerging from the trees. It stops at the edge of the clearing, sticking his muzzle into the wind, sniffing for predators. Its ears flicker back and forth, listening for any sounds out of place. It just stands there for almost two minutes until it is satisfied, feeling save enough to trot into the clearing. It stops a few meters in, bowing his head down to the grass, licking the dew off the leaves.

After a few more moments, the rest of the herd emerges from the trees, scattering all over the clearing.

“Do not aim for the females,” Tobias says over the internal comm. “You can see their rounded bellies. It’s spring, they’ll give birth soon. Aim at the younger males, there’s plenty of them in this herd. Two less won’t harm them.”

I scan the herd until I find a young buck that would suit. If only he would move half a meter forward so I could have a clear shot.

I start to feel antsy; and feel Tobias’s hand on my shoulder.

“Patience, _Bo’ika_,” he whispers over the private channel. “He’ll move eventually.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. And another. I concentrate on my breathing, slowly calming down.

There is movement on the right edge of the clearing, and I hear Fenn over the comm.

“I’ve got a clear shot.”

“Not yet,” I say back.

And then, just moments later, the buck moves a few steps forward, presenting his flank to me.

“Got one, too,” I say, and I can hear the anticipation in my own voice.

“On your count,” Fenn says.

I take one last breath. “On three. One. Two. Three.”

And I shoot. The small arrow leaving my vambrace with an almost inaudible swish. There is a dull thud, as Fenn’s and my arrows hit their targets and the two deer drop to the ground. The clearing erupts into sudden movement, the rest of the herd frantically fleeing back into the woods.

Tobias and I climb back down and walk into the clearing toward the buck I shot. Fenn and Gareth are moving toward the other.

Uncle Tobias takes off his helmet and looks at the dead animal. I do the same. The end of my small arrow is almost invisible in the buck’s flank.

“Strange, isn’t it?” he asks. “This place is remote, there are no settlements nearby. Without an impending war, this creature would have grown to full maturity, probably have challenged the stag at some point, maybe even won. And now it never will.

“It’s the fate of many young people in war, _Bo’ika_. To die before they can truly live their lives or reach their full potential. We tell ourselves that there is glory in it, that we will die as heroes, and pass into the _Manda_ for all eternity. But for those who remain? No glory or heroism has ever helped anyone through the night after losing a loved one. We recite their names and the ache dulls over time, but it never really goes away.”

I look at Tobias. There is pain there, old and new. I don’t really know how to answer him. I know he’s right. Losing Mother, Dorian, Father…they all left a hole in my heart that cannot be filled. And yet… What would have become of me if the situation was different? If Mother still lived, or Dorian? What would I be doing right now? Go back to school to finish my last year in a few weeks. And then? I would still be without purpose.

Uncle Tobias shakes his head as if to clear it.

“I’m sorry, _Bo’ika_,” he says, smiling again. “I got lost in my thoughts. That’s not a conversation a young woman should have with her old uncle on her birthday.”

My birthday? Oh stars, it’s my birthday! And I have completely forgotten about it!

It must have shown on my face, because now Uncle Tobias is laughing out loud.

“What’s so funny?” Gareth yells from the other edge of the clearing.

“Nothing,” Tobias shouts back. “Just that Bo-Katan has forgotten it’s her birthday.”

“And you had to tell her?” Gareth yells with mock indignation. “I already planned on eating her cake!”

“Sorry!” Tobias and I shout back in unison.

Tobias puts his hand out and ruffles my hair. No one has ever, in my entire life, ruffled my hair. It all falls forward into my face, and I have to push it back behind my ears. It does that, and it’s annoying. I might have to do something about that some time.

“Come on, _ad’ika_,” Tobias says. “Let’s get the food back to the camp.”

###

Compared to hauling the carcasses back to camp, hunting itself is easy. But we manage as usual and deliver the deer to the kitchen to be skinned and cleaned.

Before I can retreat to the quiet of my tent to get some rest, Tobias tells me to follow him to his and Ida’s tent. Aunt Ida is waiting for us, smiling at the two of us as we are approaching the tent.

“How’s the birthday girl?” she asks.

I shrug, but Uncle Tobias grins. “She shot half of tonight’s dinner,” he says. “Now I know how _buir_ felt the first time she let me do the shooting on a hunt.”

“And how’s that?” Ida asks, eyebrows raised.

“Panicked, impatient, and very proud.”

Ida shakes her head, but smiles. “Well, then,” she says. “Ready for a present, _ad’ika_?”

There’s presents? “I guess so?”

“Come on.” Ida waves us inside the tent and then motions for me to sit down.

Tobias picks up a small box form a crate that serves as a makeshift nightstand and hands it to me.

“I don’t know if it’ll fit,” he says, sounding somewhat nervous.

I open he box slowly. There is a headband in there. Beskar, by the look of it. Simple in a way, but there is a fine pattern edged into it. It looks older, but well kept. It looks strangely familiar, and it takes a moment until I can place it.

“This is _ba’buir_’s.” I remember now that she is wearing it in the portrait and the other pictures I’ve seen of her.

“Yes,” Tobias confirms. “It’s been in storage for a long time. But we figured since you already inherited her armor, and you wear your hair much like her, you’d might like to have it.”

The way Tobias is nervous is strange for an otherwise confident man. It’s like he’s afraid I might reject the gift. Maybe he is?

“I…don’t really know what to say,” I tell him honestly. “Thank you.”

I smile up at him, and there is relieve on his face now.

“Here,” Aunt Ida says, “let me help you put it on.”

Ida might have no children, but there is something very maternal about her; a sort of underlying patience that I remember about my own mother. She adjusts the headband right above my forehead, smoothing out the small knots that have gotten in my hair during the morning.

“Take a look in the mirror,” she says, pointing me to a small mirror set on a table.

I do, and stare at the reflection that’s looking back at me. My hair usually falls into my face a bit, unless I push it behind my ears. Held back by the headband, the contours of my face are much more defined. It also makes me look a bit more severe than usual, but maybe that was just a matter of time.

The fact that Uncle Tobias, who seems to strongly cling to the memory of his mother and has kept this part of her safely stored away for about two decades, would just give it to me, not questioning if I might be worth it, just if I might like it, is a sign of trust. A trust in me that he has displayed over and over in the past weeks, paired with a fatherly care he seems to feel toward me and is not afraid to show. All this gives me a greater sense of belonging than all the last few years without Mother and with Satine off on Coruscant.

I turn a round to look at Tobias and Ida, standing next to each other, the looks on their faces a mixture of hope, apprehension and love, and I can’t stop myself; I cross the small space between us and throw my arms around them. And in the way they return the embrace, it doesn’t matter that my life has been completely uprooted. _Ni cuy' yaim. I am home._

###

The rest of the day passes mostly as all days have passed until now. Of course, there are people wishing me well on my birthday, but it is otherwise quite uneventful.

Dinner is a joyful occasion. Not only with the venison from today ‘s hunt, but – as Gareth had already hinted – there is cake. The kitchens somehow managed to produce uj cake in the middle of a forest with nothing but trees for miles and miles around. Sticky and sweet and so, so good.

To my even bigger surprise, my Protectors have presents for me, too. Gareth gives me a hunting knife, telling me every hunter should have one.

“There are kitchen’s here, and that’s very comfortable,” he says. “But if you’re ever on a _real_ hunting trip, you have to do the skinning and cutting by yourself.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to teach me to do that.”

Gareth chuckles. “Of course, my Lady.”

I am even more surprised by Fenn’s present. Apparently, someone actually brought a Mandoviol to a war, and Fenn borrowed it.

“I am not planning on singing you to sleep by accident again,” he says, and I laugh. “And this is not the day for the lament I owe you. But there are many stories that were originally composed as songs and ballades, and so…well…here it goes.”

He actually seems to be a bit embarrassed, his cheeks coloring red, though it’s almost unnoticeable in the flickering firelight.

And then he plays; and it is magical. Fenn Rau, hot shot pilot and cocky if adorable _di’kut_, plays the Mandoviol and I am in utter awe. The way his fingers move, it is more of a caress than a plucking of strings, the motions fluid and leisurely. After a while, Fenn starts to sing; low and in undulating _Mando’a_, and I a mesmerized. I can only stare and get lost in the story he tells in a way I have never heard any story been told before. It shows a side of Fenn that he usually hides very well; a side that is considerate and vulnerable, patient and caring. A side that I have seen before on occasion, but never this openly, plain to see for everyone. And it pulls at something inside me, uncovers an ache I have never felt and cannot place.

The ballad eventually ends, and the crowed that has assembled around us starts clapping and whistling and cheering, but I have only eyes for Fenn. And the way he looks back at me takes my breath away.

###

The next morning, I am woken early by Gareth, telling me to come to the command tent. Tobias and Ida are there, and we are joined by Fenn and some other warriors.

Tobias looks determined and concentrated, but there is something else there. Anticipation; and a sort of thrill I only have seen when I accompanied him during hunting.

“This message was broadcasted over the sector mere minutes ago,” he says, and replays the message for all of us to see.

It shows Tor Vizsla, face contorted in rage.

“Satine Kryze. You choose to keep running, but it will not save you. Nor will it anyone else. Your unwillingness to turn yourself over to me will not go unpunished. You claim to have allies; you claim the clans of your house will fight for you. So be it then. We will come for them; and their deaths will be on your hands. We will take all you have from you. And we will start where it will hurt you most. We will come and take Kalevala.”

The message stops, and now there is a wicked grin on Tobias’s face.

“It seems Tor Vizsla thinks his men are going hunting,” he says. “To bad he will learn that his men are not the hunters here, but the prey.”

It has come as Tobias predicted. Without opposition on Manda’yaim, Vizsla has to come to us to fortify his claim on the thrones by taking out his enemies on their own ground.

I look at Tobias and feel how my face morphs into the same grin as his. The anticipation of the coming hunt is spreading through my body like a wildfire. Soon, it will begin. And we will be ready. _Oya! Let’s hunt!_

###

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_Today, some of my personal belongings finally made it to Kalevala. Gareth had offered to help me unpack, and I was grateful for the help. Argaeus was home for the last week and a half, and for some reason, his visit has left me strangely exhausted. Maybe because it’s a disruption in the household’s usual routine. Who knows?_

_Anyway, Gareth happened to open the box with my hunting bow and before I even could tell him to be careful with it, I saw the look on his face. He knew what it was and handled it with utter care and reverence._

_I learn about my Protector in small but surprising dosages. Gareth was born here on Kalevala in a small village located in the middle of this continent. As many communities on rural planets, his village had to be self-sufficient. He and his father often hunted in the sprawling woods surrounding the village. His grandfather had been the one to teach him how to hunt with a bow._

_It’s a connection I share with him, then. A grandfather with a passion for hunting. It was my grandfather, too, who showed me how to hunt._

_Gareth told me that the woods around the stronghold have plenty of game, should I want to hunt someday. So, tomorrow, Gareth and I will leave before dawn. I have been so cooped up in the past few months here, that the thought of wide spaces is making me giddy. I can already feel the thrill slowly seeping into my bones. So, come on, Gareth Rant, let’s hunt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations** (as far as necessary)
> 
> _dar’mandala_ \- soulless  
_aruetii(se)_ \- traitor(s)  
_ba'vodu_ \- aunt, uncle  
_buir_ \- mother, father  
_ba'buir_ \- grandmother, grandfather


	13. Scarred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wars leave scars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here comes the action... Finally...

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_Well, I guess now I know why I was so exhausted after Argaeus’s last visit. I am pregnant. For a few days, I thought I might be coming down with a stomach bug. I have no morning sickness; I just feel nauseous all the time. I lost all appetite for basically everything except vegetables. Of course, it was Gareth who first noticed that something was off and who urged me to see the stronghold’s physician. They almost had to pick me up from the floor when the doctor told me. _

_Stars, I am barely twenty years old. I know almost all Mando’ade marry early and have children at a young age, because you never know when the next war will come and kill you, but…I don’t know. Maybe I thought I would get to live a little first._

_And I had just started to at least have a little bit of a live outside my duties. Gareth and I had moved from the personal sparring rooms to the yard, and we had just started hunting. And now, all of that will cease._

_But of course, again, my Protector seems to have had a plan for that. Though the physician discouraged sparring, Gareth still drags me out into the yard; though not to fight. To observe, to talk, to mingle. I have to admit it has broadened my social circle greatly. And I am enormously thankful for that. Now all the older female warriors gather around me, giving tips against the nausea. Some of those actually work. There are a few other women my age who are freshly married or have given birth during the last year. And their company, too, is immensely helpful._

_I now spend my evenings either chatting with my newfound friends, or quietly with Gareth and the cu’bikad board._

_And yet, there is an irrational fear inside me that lingers though I believe it to be unfounded. The fear of having to raise a child alone. It’s not that I believe that I will be left alone with it. But Argaeus isn’t here, my mother and siblings are on a different planet. I am its only family here._

###

The small encampment that the handful of Vizsla warriors have constructed is easy enough to find. It’s like these guys _want_ to be found. Which is a possibility of course. It’s the reason we’ve been staking them out for the last two days now.

Fenn and I are perched up on a tree, observing the camp from a distance, almost out of range for our helmets’ sensors to pick up on movement via heat sensors. As far as we can gather, they are just a scout group, supposed to find _us_, and definitely not vice versa.

Well, in that case, they shouldn’t have left boot prints all over the forest. And now, at night, they have lit a fire, making it easy to find them even without additional tech.

I watch them sleep, with one of them up as a watch, the heat sensors in my helmet turning the people into motionless shapes of reds and yellows and greens.

Since the war has come to Kalevala, my sleep schedule has basically been turned into a mess. We’re mostly about at dawn and twilight. When we find a group of enemies, we stake them out; observe and report back. Intel is important, it saves lives. We watch them in rotating groups, and Fenn and I have drawn the short straw and ended on full rotation duty more than once. By now, we don’t care anymore. We’ve grown so used to it that we volunteered to take them; leave by midday, stay the night, and return by midday the next day. I mostly sleep during the day now. Aunt Ida has come to affectionally call me _ca’naar’ika_. _Little owl_.

The days and weeks seem to blend together since Vizsla’s men arrived on Kalevala. First, they came down hard on the stronghold. But Aunt Alanna, Torrack and Karr were prepared for that. By now, the Vizsla in command has laid siege to the stronghold, since he obviously can’t take it by force.

Another group has laid siege to Naak, but they are not getting very far either. The city’s shield generators are holding up fine. And the protectoral squad stationed in the city is giving them hell from time to time; just to have something to do, I suspect. Tobias says Naak is only under siege because it’s the planet’s largest space port and trading hub. They pose no threat otherwise, except that they would usually import things that are not produced on Kalevala ifself. But most settlements are self-sufficient anyways, so it’s not really hurting anyone. At least for now.

Last week, we’ve received word from Ordo that Satine had been there. She talked to Lincoln and other chieftains, but apparently also to some citizens in different places on the planet. It was a great boost to moral.

She also left a private message for me that Lincoln was kind enough to relay. It was the first time in many years that Satine actually _looked_ Mandalorian to me. No fancy hair style, no pretty dresses; no, just plain clothes, hair pulled pack into a short ponytail. Her face looked different, too. I always thought Cal and I were the only ones with freckles, but apparently Satine had been exposed to the sun a lot more than usual, and there was a faint but distinct dusting on her cheeks. She told me about being on the run from the bounty hunters, about how the Jedi master seems to be a good-natured spirit, but maybe a bit too esoteric, and how the younger one was quiet, but with a wit sharp as a _beskad_. She also told me that she misses us and hopes that all this will be over soon.

And I can’t even send her a reply, because I don’t know where she is now.

Fenn stretches next to me, bringing me out of my thoughts again.

“Who knew trees were this uncomfortable,” he says with mock indignation in his voice.

“I’m sure the tree does it on purpose just to bug you,” I reply.

“Haha, very funny,” he retorts, but I can hear the smile. “You think these bumbling _di’kute_ will actually find our camp?”

“If they do, it’s by accident, not by skill,” I answer. “But someone will get there eventually. We’ve taken out two other groups so far. One only slightly to the east of camp, one to the south. And now we are north of the camp. I think it’s safe to assume that they relay their position to someone regularly, and I am sure that someone in House Vizsla knows how to triangulate positions. We might have to move camp soon anyway.”

Fenn makes an affirmative noise. “I guess we’ll know more when the next briefing is over. Gareth is edgy, and that’s never a good sign.”

“No, it’s not,” I agree. “So is _ba’vodu_. I think they feel we’ve been stationary for too long by now as it is. They might move camp just for a change of scenery.”

Fenn nods. “_Mando’ade_ used to be a nomadic people. I guess we’re still wired that way somewhere deep down. Otherwise neither you nor I would find it easy to live in a camp, giving up the creature comforts we’re used to for a prolonged time.”

I know he’s right. It’s one thing to be out of the domed cities for combat training for a few days, and another to be out in the wild for weeks on end. And yet we both seem to enjoy it, despite the circumstances.

We keep watching the group of Vizslas for a few more minutes. It’s an hour before dawn, and that gives us a few more quiet minutes.

“Well,” Fenn says, stretching again, “I don’t think it’ll get exciting within the next half hour. Food?”

“Yes please. My stomach’s growling already.”

Fenn chuckles. “How can someone this slim eat so much food?”

I punch him lightly in the arm. “It’s the fresh air, it makes me hungry. Not to mention the continuous climbing on trees, the sparring and the actual fighting. Well, probably the sparring.”

“Yeah,” Fenn agrees.

After Vizsla announced that he’ll send men to take Kalevala, the amount of time spend training has greatly increased. Tobias is now often sparring with me and Fenn, and I am still sure I’m only holding up more than a few seconds because I have fought against Gareth before. Fenn is a natural, but he, too, struggles to keep up with _ba’vodu_.

Tobias is a dangerous combination of skill, experience and discipline. The first few days, I was so sore I could hardly move in the mornings. But I’ve gotten used to that, too. And if I am honest, I probably need the extra training. I guess sparring and actually fighting someone hand-to-hand who wants to kill you are two very different things.

We take our helmets off, clipping them to our belts so they can’t fall down and cause enough clatter to alert the Vizslas. Fenn carefully extracts the food we brought from the backpack, handing me whatever is on top. It’s buttered flatbread. Yummy.

We’re lucky it’s a very clear night and the moon is almost full. Otherwise, we wouldn’t see much and would have to skip eating until dawn.

We munch away in silence. Tobias was right, this war is exactly like he said it would be. And I am once again thankful that, with all the Protectors there are, I ended up with Gareth and Fenn. Out here, Gareth is only half as quiet as in the palace, especially around other warriors his age or Tobias.

And Fenn? I sigh, almost involuntarily. I spend so much time alone with him out here, watching enemy movements. Time that is mostly spend in silence but is never uncomfortable. Sometimes we talk over the closed circuit of the helmet comm, the ad-hoc connection that only works when you’re no more than a few meters apart. I know he’s my Protector, but without the outward sign of the protectoral armor, it’s easy to forget. He’s just a few months older than I am; and the longer we’re out here, the more he feels like a friend and less like a guard.

I think he feels the same. I’ve noticed that since my birthday, he walks a fine line where he doesn’t call me _Bo-Katan_, but also avoids calling me _my lady_ if possible. I don’t want to get him in trouble, but I don’t like him calling me _my lady_, either. It would only be fair if he called me _Bo-Katan_, wouldn’t it? After all, I dropped his last name sometime in the last few weeks, too. He used to be _Fenn Rau_, now he’s just _Fenn_.

I suddenly feel his eyes on me and look up at him. He looks a bit worried, so I smile at him. I must have looked terribly thoughtful for a moment there. Fenn’s face relaxes, and he smiles back.

And there it is again, that strange pull inside me. Maybe it’s Fenn’s eyes…those bright blue eyes that seem to be able to look right inside me sometimes. And I would lie if I said I hadn’t noticed that he’s handsome. There are two other young women in camp that have certainly noticed, some distant cousins of mine who still manage to look more like a Kryze than I do.

But before I can follow that line of thought any further, I hear leaves rustling close to us. But there is no wind, so something – or someone – is moving close to our position. Fenn and I both stiffen. I swallow the last bite of my food and carefully put my helmet back on. So does Fenn.

_Fierfek!_ Below us, three more warriors are moving through the forest. They have their helmets on and most likely use night vision. Fenn and I are up high enough for them not to see us from the ground with night vision. There are enough branches and leaves to conceal us. But not if they are looking for heat signatures. They stop right below us, and I hold my breath.

One of them pulls his helmet off.

“Shouldn’t we have reached the others by now?” he asks.

The others take their helmets off, too.

“Can’t be far now,” a female voice drifts up. “If their coordinates are correct, we should be there in a few minutes.”

“Then why are we standing around here?” the third one wants to know. “We’ve been walking for hours now. Karking forest where you can’t use a karking jetpack. Let’s just find the others.”

The guy puts his helmet back on and starts walking. The others follow suit.

Fenn and I don’t move for another minute until we’re sure the others can’t hear us move around.

“Well, that’s not good,” Fenn says, stating the obvious.

“No, it’s not,” I answer. “Let’s see if they arrive and maybe we get a chance to listen into their conversation.”

After a few more minutes, they find their friends’ camp. I pull my range finder down, magnifying the heat signatures to better assess their movements. Fenn pulls a small devise from the backpack that looks like a miniature satellite. Courtesy of a young tech-savvy New Mandalorian named Novin Itera, the device can lock into the closed circuit of other people’s helmet comm systems, enabling us to listen to what is being said, though at this range, the quality isn’t terribly good. But it’s enough to follow the general conversation.

There are greetings being exchanged; food is offered, a place to sit or lie down. But then the conversation shifts, and Fenn and I are listening as intently as possible.

“When will the others arrive?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t heard of them in a few hours. Maybe a day or two.”

“And you’re sure they’re coming.”

“Of course, I’m sure. I wouldn’t be trudging through this _shabla_ forest if I wasn’t sure.”

“Alright, alright. How many in total?”

“Fifty. Enough to take out whoever has been taking out _our_ guys.”

“You are forgetting that we haven’t found them yet.”

“I’ve noticed. But with more men, we can make a proper grid search and come across them eventually. Must be around twenty people from what we could gather so far. We’ll wait for the others and then deal with these _dar’mandala_ Kryze _aruetiise_.”

_Osik,_ this is bad. Really bad. There is a part of me that wants to climb down this tree and deal with those warriors right here and now and be done with it. But I also know that it’s not an option, as we are outnumbered four to one. I look at the crono. Another three hours until the next shift gets here. Too long.

“We should go,” I tell Fenn over the comm.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. We need to warn the others. And these guys are not going anywhere. They are waiting for reinforcements and are not gonna leave their position until those arrive. And we don’t know how well they are equipped. I don’t want to risk them intercepting a transmission. Especially since at least one of the newcomers seems to have more than a single brain cell.”

Fenn nods. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s almost another hour till sunrise and it seems unlikely they are starting to move around until then. Let’s go.”

We carefully pack up and switch to night vision. Climbing down the trees without proper light isn’t easy, if not outright dangerous. Especially since it’s not a straight way down. We climb down a few meters on the tree we’re on, then switch over to a smaller tree next to it. And the next, and the next, until we are close enough to the forest floor to actually get down.

The compass in my helmet points us in the right direction as we set out back toward camp.

###

About an hour later, I switch off my night vision as dawn finally comes. We’ve been walking in silence until now, each of us lost in our own thoughts, setting a brisk pace to make it back to camp as quickly as possible.

“Can we stop for a second?” Fenn asks.

He doesn’t sound out of breath, so I guess he needs to take a leak. Come to think of it, so do I.

I stop and nod. “Yeah, you first.”

Fenn hands me the backpack and disappears behind a large tree. I keep looking around, my helmet sensors scanning our surroundings, but there is nothing there. But I do have a hand on one of my blasters, just in case.

Fenn is back in a minute, and I find a nice set of high bushes I can hide behind. I crouch down and have to chuckle. If someone had told me a year ago that I would find it perfectly normal to pee behind a bush or tree while a Protector is just five meters away, I’d have declared them insane. But here we are.

I pull my pants back up and walk back to Fenn. He pulls a water bottle from the backpack and hands it to me, then pulls one out for himself. I do another quick scan of our surroundings and take off my helmet.

The morning air is still a bit chilly, though the temperatures are steadily going up during the day. Aunt Ida says it’s almost summer now and it’ll soon be warm enough to walk around in short-sleeved shirts.

Tobias says that people who have never been to _Manda’yaim_ think it’s terribly hot there because it’s a desert. But it’s not. It’s averages at about 15 degrees Celsius, so it’s neither warm nor cold. It’s only a desert because the planet never recovered from the orbital bombardments it suffered during our past wars.

Fenn and I sip our water. I watch him and have to smile behind my bottle. His armor isn’t shiny anymore. With all the sparring and shooting and climbing up trees, the paint has gotten plenty of scratches by now. I still think the dark blue suits him incredibly well. His hair is a bit different now than it used to be. The sides have grown out a bit, and he hasn’t shaved them back yet, even though he has cut his top hair a few days ago. I like it better this way.

“What?” he suddenly says.

_Kriff_, he noticed me staring. But what the hell…

“I like your hair like that,” I tell him honestly.

His hand goes up to his head self-consciously, rubbing the short coppery hair at the back of his head.

“It’s easier to grow it out a bit when you don’t wear a cowl under the helmet.”

It looks like he wants to say more but is stopped by a flock of birds suddenly leaving a set of trees with a ruckus about a hundred meters behind us.

“What-“ he starts, but I shush him.

It’s suddenly completely quiet. All the ambient noise is gone. We drop everything and pull out our blasters, automatically positioning ourselves back to back.

I let my eyes wander from left to right, systematically searching. The woods here have barely any undergrowth, but the trees are old, and their trunks are wide. I pass over an especially wide tree and just as I am almost past it, I see movement out of the corner of my eye. And I shoot, the loud metallic clang telling me I hit armor.

And then blaster fire is flying around our heads. Without my helmet on, it’s difficult to pinpoint the exact location, but it’s all coming from roughly the same direction. I raise my left arm and active the small shield to protect my head and fire back. I know Fenn is next to me, also shooting in the same direction. We move forward to take cover behind a large, fallen tree, the enemy’s blaster fire still flying over our heads and hitting the tree.

“Could you count them?” Fenn asks.

“No. But I guess about four or five.”

“_Fierfek_.”

We are at a disadvantage. Not only are we outnumbered, but we also have the lower ground. Leaving the cover to make a run for it will most likely get us killed, just like charging up the small hill would, too.

“Let’s stay here,” I say. “If they want us, they must come get us.”

“Alright,” Fenn agrees. “You mark their positions, I’ll cover you.”

“Alright.”

I see Fenn take a deep breath before raises his head slightly above the tree and starts shooting with both blasters. I, too, raise my head, focusing on where the fire is coming from.

There are five of them, all covered behind trees. If they would move just a little…Thanks to the adrenaline, my brain is working overtime, seeming to slow everything down while simultaneously speeding up my thoughts. I am suddenly reminded of the hunt on my birthday, anxious for the buck to move. And as hard as it is, I tell myself to be patient. Eventually, one of them will move and expose themselves.

And one of them does, fully stepping out from behind a tree. I aim for his thighs, which look to be unprotected. It takes two shots, but then I hit him, and watch him sink to his knees. I keep firing at him and he goes down eventually. He’s most likely just wounded, but a least he’s no longer firing.

I keep going, looking for the next target. Two others are leaving their cover to advance toward us. One of them, a woman, is impatient, picking up speed as she charges down the hill toward our position. Though there is no visible undergrowth, the tree roots can be close to the surface. Covered with the fallen leaves from last year, they are invisible traps. Her foot catches, and she stumbles, eventually falling and rolling down the hill. She comes to a halt much closer to our position. She gets up and shakes her head, and it’s that little moment of disorientation that I need. She raises one hand to her helmet, exposing her side, and I aim and shoot, hitting her between the ribs where there is no _beskar’gam_ to cover her. She drops immediately.

The other one is still advancing, but he’s cleverer, moving slower and from cover to cover.

“There is a small thermal detonator in my belt,” Fenn says, barely audible over the blaster fire. “Right side.”

I reach around him, trying not to get in his way, blindly groping for the right pocket of his belt. I find it eventually and focus back on the warrior who’s still advancing steadily toward us. Fenn’s blaster bolds hit him but are deflected by the armor. Must be real _beskar_ then.

He keeps moving from tree to tree. I can see where he’ll most likely go next, and that’s where I aim. I activate the detonator, aim and throw it. The blast goes off right in front of the man, throwing him back against a tree with great velocity. The thud of the man hitting the tree is so loud that I am sure he’s out.

That leaves two more.

“I’ll take the one on the right,” Fenn says.

“I’ll take left, then.”

Now both of us have only one target left. But they are not stupid, and they both have a far better line of cover than the other three, and they keep advancing without us slowing them down much.

“_Osik_,” I hear Fenn swear. “Well, that’s it with cover then. Let’s move back before they are on top of us.”

We move backward, slowly straitening up as we move away from the fallen tree and into more open space. Fenn and I both activate our shields again to cover our heads, only shooting with one blaster now.

The two advancing Vizslas manage to hit us now and again, but, out of sheer dumb luck, only armor. But it still hurts, and I am sure I’ll have several bruises tomorrow.

The two men eventually make it into the clearing and charge directly at us. It’s now that the additional training against Tobias pays off. At first, I can only react; deflect my opponents attacks. But then I get an opening and can retaliate. The man is much bigger than I am, and that is my advantage. I’ve trained against bigger opponents all my life. What I lack in burliness, I make up in speed, and manage to land several blows before the guy staggers out of range for a moment.

But then he draws a knife and advances again. But two can play the game. I draw the hunting knife Gareth gave me and thank the stars that it was Gareth who taught me how to fight with a knife years ago in the palace’s training yard. Again, my smaller size is an advantage, as I can move quicker and duck out of the way.

And then I hear Fenn cry out in pain, and I am distracted long enough for my opponent to come in too close. I move backward, but too late. I feel the blade cut across my forehead just above my right eye. Seconds later, blood is dripping down, running into my eye and blurring my vision. I hear the man chuckle under his helmet, and it makes me unbelievably angry. And terribly reckless. But I have nothing to lose. With a last effort, I charge at him, and he seems surprised by that, moving backwards. I go through the motions like I am on autopilot. I don’t think, I just do. As I keep pressing forward, the man keeps moving backward. And then he’s falling, stumbling over another root. And it’s my chance. My only chance. I move with him, using the velocity of the fall to give me extra momentum and sink the hunting knife into his throat.

I catch my breath for a second. All I want is to fall to the floor right here, but I still here the fighting behind me. Fenn.

Just as I turn around, I hear a shot, and I go cold all over.

“Fenn!” It’s a high-pitched shriek that just leaves my mouth on its own as I see both men go down.

For a few heartbeats, a few terrible heartbeats, both of them don’t move.

And then, with a grunt of pain and last effort, Fenn shoves the other man’s body off him. I run over to him and help him up. There is blood on his face where punches broke the skin, and his lip is bleeding.

We stare at each other for a few moments before I throw my arms around him. I feel his arms encircle me, pulling me against him. Relief is flooding through me and with the adrenaline wearing off quickly, I start shaking.

But there is no time for this.

“We need to move,” I croak out, detangling myself from Fenn.

“You’re bleeding,” he states.

“So are you. But they will have called in that they engaged us, and if we don’t move, we’ll soon have to deal with more of them, and I am certain we wouldn’t survive that.”

Fenn nods and walks a few meters to pick up the backpack and our helmets. He puts his helmet on, scanning our surroundings.

“Clear for now,” he says. He picks up one of the bottles that has not spilled completely, as well as something white from one of his belt pouches. It’s a small cloth. He pours the water over it and comes back toward me.

“Just let me clean up some of the blood, alright?”

I nod. Fenn starts to dap at the cut on my forehead, but even though it’s just water, it stings, and I draw back with a hiss.

“Sorry,” Fenn says, but I shake my head.

“No, just…get it over with.”

This time, Fenn moves his left hand around my neck to the base of my skull, holding my head in place. I clench my teeth, and he resumes cleaning the blood away.

“Well, that’s as good as it’s going to get right now,” he says.

He roams around in his belt pouch again. “I don’t have a large enough bacta patch,” he says. “But I can put something over it to slow down the bleeding.”

I nod and he sets to work. I pick up my helmet after he finishes and carefully pull it over my head. It’s uncomfortable, but better than risking it.

We gather up the rest of our things. I pull the knife from the dead man’s throat, running the flat edges over the side of my pants a few times and sheath it. I’ve got to clean it properly later. And then we move on, leaving five bodies in the middle of the forest.

###

The way back seems endless, but we eventually reach the first signs of our camp. A sentinel, hidden high up in a tree, calls down to us.

“You’re home early!”

Fenn and I take our helmets off and hear a loud “_Fierfek_.”

The sentinel sobers up. “I’ll call Lord Tobias,” he calls down to us.

Fenn and I keep moving. Before we even make it to the camp, we see Tobias, Ida and Gareth come toward us.

“What happened?” Tobias demands, even before we reach them.

“We ran into some Vizslas,” I tell him. “But we have bigger problems.”

When we finally stand in front of Tobias, I see the blood drain from his face.

“Stars, _Bo’ika_,” he says, and pulls me into a crushing hug.

“Ouch.”

He lets go immediately. “Sorry.”

Next to me, I see Gareth putting a hand on Fenn’s shoulder.

“You alright, kid?” he asks.

Fenn just nods.

“Come on,” Aunt Ida says. “You can tell us what happened on the way to the med tent.”

###

Fenn and I recount what we heard and what happened on our way back. Tobias and Gareth look thoughtful.

“We have to talk with the others,” Tobias says. “Come on, Gareth.”

They disappear into the direction of the command tent, leaving Fenn and me in Ida’s care.

Ida is merciful and gives me a local anesthetic to numb the pain while she properly cleans the cut on my forehead. When Fenn looks at her with surprise, she chuckles.

“I’m a medical doctor,” she explains. “I did have quite a normal life before I met Tobias.”

Ida turns her attention back to me. “I’ll put bacta on it, but it’s been almost two hours. It’ll most likely scar.”

I nod. I’d rather have a scar and live than be dead without a scratch.

Ida moves over to Fenn and cleans the cuts on his face.

“Nothing time won’t heal,” she states. “Okay. Let’s get you both out of your armor then. See how badly you’re bruised.”

She has us strip to our underwear. Ida deals with it with all the professionalism of a doctor. Fenn and I don’t. My eyes keep flickering toward him, but then, so do his to me.

We are covered in bruises. There is a large one on Fenn’s left side, right on his rib cage. Ida examines that one first.

“You’re lucky. The ribs are bruised, not broken. It’ll hurt, but it’ll heal quick enough.”

I have a large bruise just above my left breast. Fenn looks at it, only to quickly avert his eyes when he realizes just where exactly he’s looking.

We have more bruises on our arms and legs, most likely from the hand-to-hand. There is much more force behind the blows when someone is actually trying to kill you.

“Well,” Aunt Ida says. “It looks bad, but it’s alright. The compression suits stopped the worst. But remember that the bruises will get worse for another day or two before they start to get better. I am no fan of stim shots unless absolutely necessary. So, you’ll have to live with pain meds. I’ll give both of you a shot. Come back when the pain comes back to strongly.”

Fenn and I nod and let Ida administer the shots.

“There’s a sonic shower behind the curtain over there. Why don’t you two get cleaned up while I fetch you some clean clothes.”

She disappears through the tent flap, leaving Fenn and me alone, awkwardly looking away from each other.

“Ladies first?” Fenn asks.

“Sure.”

I walk past Fenn and behind the curtain. A sonic shower gets you clean, but it will never compare to a real shower.

I peel my underwear off, suddenly very conscious of the also mostly naked Fenn Rau on the other side of the curtain. I listen for movement, but there is none. Instead, I hear Fenn hum again. My mouth carves into a small smile on its own.

I take the headband off and turn on the shower, feeling the slight vibrations. I close my eyes but open them again quickly when I start to sway slightly. I guess I am more tired than I realized.

There is movement in the tent, and I hear Aunt Ida’s voice next to the curtain.

“Mind if I come in?”

“No.” I don’t, really. I have no trouble stripping down in front of other women.

Ida comes around the curtain and places a pile of clean clothes on a small stool.

“Something comfy,” she says. “You can go back to armor tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll be in the command tent. You two can come over when you’re done here. Let’s see what the war council decides.”

“Okay, we’ll be over in a while.”

Ida smiles at me, then reaches out and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

“If you need to talk…”, she says, trailing off.

“I’ll know where to find you.”

She nods, relief showing ever so briefly on her face. Then she lets go and disappears behind the curtain again.

I get dressed again and leave the shower.

“Your turn,” I say, and smile at Fenn. “I’ll wait, if that’s alright with you.”

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”

I watch him walk around the curtain, allowing my eyes to linger on his back, but look away again when I feel heat rise to my cheeks. The spontaneous embrace from before comes back to my mind. It was pure relief; we were glad to see the other alive. And yet, in the irrational and primal part of my brain, I am reminded that it was also nice.

But I push the thought away. We have other problems right now than the wayward ideas my subconscious can conjure up.

Fenn emerges from behind the curtain again, fully dressed in training gear like me. He stops in front of me, looking down.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, his eyes going up to the large bacta patch on my forehead.

I shrug. “We both know that there’ll be more scars on all of us before this war is over. And there is nothing you could have done to prevent it, anyway. We’re both alive, and that’s all that matters.”

Fenn nods, but doesn’t move. It’s like he is trying to say something else but doesn’t know how to say it. He sighs.

“It’s my job to protect you,” is what he settles for.

“Yes, you’re my Protector, but…you’re also my friend. So maybe we’ll just protect each other and not keep score, hm?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Gareth would tell me that Protectors and their charges should not be friends.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” I say, considering his words. “My grandmother considered him a friend. And as far as I can gather from her journals, a lot of things he did for her were out of friendship and care and not out of duty. Maybe he would rather tell you to not forget your duty.”

“You think he ever did?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. But I think he walks a fine line; one where he always has to distinguish between public appearance and private indulgence. Like he calls Uncle Tobias _ad’ika_ in our relatively small private circle, but always call him _my lord_ in front of others.”

Fenn nods.

“But,” I continue, “I am not one for public appearances. So, I would appreciate it if stopped beating around the bush and just called me Bo-Katan.”

Now Fenn smiles down at me. And there is that look in his eyes again; that look that makes my breath catch and my stomach flutter. Damn those brilliant blue eyes of his.

Fenn suddenly clears his throat and looks away.

“We should get going,” he says.

I swallow and nod. “Yes, we should.”

###

In the command tent, a holo map of the continent is displayed over the round tactical station with the holograms of several other commanders around it next to Tobias, Ida and Gareth.

Tobias has Fenn and me recount what we heard and saw and what happened on the way back.

“Well,” one of the other commanders begins. Roland, if I remember the name correctly. “Given where the rest of us are on the map, it is safe to assume that they are actually trying to find _your_ camp. How many men?”

“Fifty,” I repeat.

“And how many in your camp?”

“About thirty,” Tobias answers.

“How long do you think until they can pinpoint your location?” another commander, a woman named Ruu, asks.

“They said the others were a day or two out,” I answer. “Say they get there within a day and they quickly organize a grid search. And let’s assume the ones Fenn and I came across were heading their way. Together with the other scout troops we took out before, they’ll be able to find us within the next two rotations.”

“Could be worse, then,” Ruu says. “Gives you time to prepare.”

“Yes,” Ida agrees. “But what should we prepare for? Pack up and move on or take them out?”

“Both,” Roland answers. “Take them out, then disappear.”

Tobias rubs his bearded chin in an absentminded motion, the look on his face concentrated.

“How are the state of affairs at your camp, Roland?” he asks.

“Fine. Haven’t had any enemy contact in a few days. We were thinking about moving soon. Guess everyone’s heading your way.”

Tobias nods. “How long would it take for some of your warriors to get here?”

Roland frowns at the map. “If we leave immediately, maybe about 40 hours. You want backup?”

“If possible, yes. The scout troops were easy enough to handle, but we can’t bank on their reinforcement being as clumsy as they seemed to be. Vizslas are generally known for their ruthlessness, not their stupidity. And it’s safe to assume they have at least a few commandos who are trained in forest terrain.”

“I agree,” Ruu says. “But we need to take them out. You have the advantage that they’ll come to you and you have time to prepare. With Roland sending backup, you have a very good chance to take them out without too many losses. After that, you could head toward the marsh lands. Our scouts report enemy movements there, saying it looks like they’re building a base camp, but there is no camp of ours close enough to deal with them.”

Tobias keeps looking at the map, the blue dots indication our troops, the red dots the enemy. They are all well-dispersed over the map, except the marsh lands Ruu just mentioned.

“Their scouts will come from the north,” Tobias says.

“Yes,” Gareth agrees. “But if they’re half-way clever, they’ll plan an attack from the west. If they come to take out the camp, that’s their best chance to get in unnoticed and wreak havoc.”

Tobias sighs, then looks at Gareth. “What’s your opinion on this.”

“I agree with Ruu and Roland. Take them out. Anyone we can take out now is no longer there when we have to liberate the stronghold, Naak and whatever else is under siege or attack by then.”

“Somebody please make a note somewhere that Roland Lok and Gareth Rant agreed on something,” another commander says, earning him a few chuckles around the group. “But on a more serious note, I, too, agree.”

There are heads nodded all around.

“Alright, then,” Tobias says. “Then that’ how we’ll proceed. We will be in no further contact until this is over. If you don’t hear anything from us within the next week, you’ll now what happened. See you on the other side.”

There is little more to say, the commanders signing off wishing us luck and good fortune. The rest of us are quiet for a few moments, lost in thought over what we know will come. Ida is a first to heave a sigh.

“I’ll start to prepare medical,” she says. “Take stock and go from there.”

She gives Tobias a pack on the cheek before she leaves the tent.

“I’ll take a look around the armory,” Gareth says and walks out of the tent, too.

Tobias looks at the map for a moment longer, then looks up at Fenn and me.

“Everything alright, _ba’vodu_?” I venture.

“Yes,” he says, fixing us with his green eyes. “Don’t look so pale, Rau, you’re not in trouble or something. Having you stay has more of an educational purpose.”

Alright, now I am confused. It seems to show on Fenn’s and my face, and Tobias chuckles slightly.

“Time’s a bit pressing, so I’ll make it a quick lesson,” Tobias starts. “Both of you will lead others at one time in your lives, be it as Satine’s right hand or as a commanding officer among the Protectors. There are many ways to lead people. Some rely on obedience, others on cooperation. My father relied heavily on obedience; he was the _Mand’alor_, the sole ruler of our people, after all. My mother on the other hand felt it was much better to get people’s cooperation and input to make an informed decision that would gain a wider support. Both ways were justified by the positions they were in.

“We’re at war, and on one hand, I must rely on everyone here to follow my orders without question. On the other hand, I can’t have them feel overlooked or feel like they’re just means to an end. And I am not all-knowing. I need their perspectives. So, while the decision how to proceed is technically mine alone, I chose to inform the other commanders and to allow their input to affect my decision.

“In this case, it was easy. They all agreed. If they hadn’t, their input would have still been valuable, even if making a decision might have been harder. But it would at least have been an informed decision. Do you two understand what I’m trying to say?”

“I think so,” Fenn answers, and I nod in agreement.

“Alright. I don’t have time to really discuss this with you right now, but maybe some other time. You two get some rest. I’ll have to make write a memo that Gareth and Roland agreed.”

He grins broadly, and Fenn and I huff out a laugh.

“See you later, _ba’vodu_,” I say, and Fenn and I turn to leave.

Just before we’re out the tent, I remember something.

“_Ba’vodu_?”

“Yes, _ad’ika_?”

“They don’t look up.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The Vizsla warriors. They don’t look up into the trees.”

Tobias fixes me with his green eyes, a thoughtful look on his face. Then his eyes change, the yellow flecks gaining dominance, and his wicked half-smile starts to spread across his face.

###

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_Aliit ori’shya tal’din. Family is more than blood. I don’t think I ever understood the meaning of this saying until today._

_Today was a lazy day. For some reason, there was hardly anything to do. I sat behind the desk for two hours, sorting through some things with the head of the kitchen staff and talk with the armorer about ordering some paint – the good kind, not the cheap stuff from Draboon, mind you – and then…nothing. There was nothing else to do. And I was thankful for it._

_For some reason, being pregnant with Adonai three years ago was somewhat easier. Well, maybe not easier, but it feels like my belly is much larger than the last time. I already know it’s going to be another boy. And this time, I get to name him. Don’t get me wrong, I’m perfectly fine with the name Adonai. Many great rulers of House Kryze carried that name, and it actually suits him very well._

_Adonai is the very image of a Kryze. Lean, blond, blue-eyed. Even his nose is already so damnably straight at his young age. His personality, too, is a lot like his father’s. Sometimes I wonder if I gave him anything of me. But be that as it may. This little one will be named Tobias, after my grandfather, the one who taught me to hunt._

_So, anyways, with nothing else to do, I got myself a cup of tea from the kitchen and went outside into the yard. Adonai was there, playing with some other children. They were chasing each other around the yard at full speed. Well, all the speed children their age can muster, anyway._

_But it came as it had to, probably. Adonai and another boy crashed into each other and both started screaming and crying. I started to make my way over to them, but before I could get there, Gareth was already picking up Adonai. And I made myself stop and watch them._

_I’ve seen them together countless times before, and yet for the first time it struck me how close they are. Adonai calmed down quickly on Garth’s arms, his still slightly chubby hands grabbing the side of Gareth’s face and touching his forehead to his._

_I remember wondering how alone I would be in raising him, who Adonai would form bonds with, since there was no other close family but me around. I think it never was this clear to me as today that it doesn’t matter if you are related to someone or not. How strong a bond we form with someone has nothing to do with that._

_I am again thankful that Gareth is my Protector. Well, that doesn’t really do it justice, does it? Gareth is much more than that. He’s my friend. He’s the first friend I made on Kalevala. I don’t think anyone on this planet knows me quite as well as he does. So maybe, I could say he is my best friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's reading!


	14. Victory and loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone prepares for the coming battle in their own way. Vizsla’s men come to take out the camp. And it’s a lot better if you don’t (have to) deal with the aftermath alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really hard time with this chapter. I knew what was going to happen and how, but I had trouble with the angle. No matter from whose POV I told the story, it always felt incomplete. So, I decided to tell the skirmish out of different perspectives, including one POV from a member of House Vizsla.
> 
> Also: BE WARNED! There is fighting in this chapter and some of the depictions are rather explicit. Our protagonists fight for their lives. They want to survive, and they don’t really care how. They exploit their opponents’ weaknesses and they feel no shame or remorse about this. (At least not in that moment.) If you do not like to read about that or if this might be a trigger for you, I’ll indicate from where to where you should skip.

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_I haven’t been in a proper fight since I married Argaeus. I forgot how it is. The adrenaline, the single-mindedness, the focus. The feeling of power after you win. Clan Venn was out of line, attacking its neighbors, hoping the New Mandalorian Clan Nyc would just give up their land. Clan Lok intervened on Clan Nyc’s behalf, which in turn led others to support the Venns. Argaeus is Mand’alor, and there can be no disorder in his own backyard._

_The Venns had to be dealt with. And it is my duty to deal with the clans of House Kryze on Kalevala. And so, I did._

_On the way back home, I was alone in the shuttle with Gareth. He had been contemplative for the whole time we’ve been at the Lok stronghold and out in the field to fight. I thought that maybe it was because we were so close to his home. He even knew Roland Lok personally from his childhood. So, I prattled a bit to take his mind off, telling him how glad I was to see the boys and how hard I found it to part with them for just a few days._

_And then, out of nowhere, Gareth asked me why, if I loved and missed my children, I would risk the life of my unborn child by going into battle. And for a few moments, all I could do was stare at him and try to comprehend what he had just said._

_He is right; I am pregnant again. But I haven’t told anyone. I haven’t even told Argaeus yet! I’m just two weeks overdue. And he just knew. Gareth just knew and I have never felt as ashamed as in that moment when I saw the hurt look in his eyes. He is so close to the boys; so close that Tobias sometimes calls him buir, and we have to explain to him again that Gareth is not his father. But with Argaeus’s long absences, Gareth is the only father figure they truly know._

_How can I be surprised then, that Gareth would feel the same about them? That he would even feel like that about their unborn sibling. But all I could ask in that moment was how he knew. And maybe his answer should not have surprised me as it did. How could he not know? Isn’t he the one who hasn’t been more than a few feet away from me ever since I came to Kalevala?_

_And suddenly, and for the first time in almost five years, we argued. Argued about duty, propriety, and personal space. It was also the first time I heard Gareth cuss, and the first time he ever called me Bo-Katan._

_We are home now, but we haven’t reconciled yet. And it might take a while until we do. Many things were said in anger that we regret. Well, I know I most certainly do._

_Tomorrow, I’ll see the stronghold’s physician to have him confirm he pregnancy. And then I must tell Argaeus that I am pregnant with his third child._

###

**Bo-Katan**

We are prepared as best as we can. After taking stock of the camps interior, we moved most of it out of the camp and into a small cave system to the south. The tents are empty now; the camp nothing more than a shell. Out of the thirty people that usually live here, only ten will remain inside. The camp may be empty, but it _can’t look_ empty.

This morning, our sentinels spotted a Vizsla scout group. We let them check out the camp, and then we let them leave, allowing them to alert their fellow warriors and to let them come to us.

It’s late now, and we assume Vizsla’s men will arrive either this night or in the early hours of the morning. There is no better time to attack a camp then when everyone is still asleep.

Everyone is starting to get excited and edgy. It shows in different ways with different people. I saw Gareth check his blasters at least five times within the last hour. And then he proceeded to check first mine and then Fenn’s. _Ba’vodu_ has become rather quiet and contemplative, now and then checking up on different groups of people. Aunt Ida is dispersing medical supplies. Since we will most likely get no real sleep, Ida has been handing out stim shots to everyone with an unhappy frown on her face, reminding all of us that we should only use them right before Vizsla’s men begin their attack.

Fenn and I are helping where help is needed, which mostly means hauling supplies from one place to another. Weapons, power packs; everything we’ll need to deal with the inevitable little invasion of our camp.

And then it’s done. All preparations are complete, leaving us with nothing to do but to wait.

###

**Fenn**

I hate waiting. It’s not that I can’t be idle. On the contrary, I love being idle, but under the right circumstances. And waiting for our enemies to come and attack us is certainly not what I would call ideal.

But we pass the time anyway. Bo-Katan and I have found a nice, big tree to sit under and lean against its trunk. We’re eating some of the perishables that need to be eaten anyway, chewing on some slightly gooey bread in companionable silence.

I like that we can just sit next to each other for literal hours without the need to fill the silence with random chatter or forced conversation. The other’s company is simply enough. And yet, today, I seem to find no real rest.

“Are you alright?” Bo-Katan suddenly asks, looking up at me with mossy green eyes.

I shrug. “I don’t know,” I tell her honestly.

“Worried?”

I think about the word. “No,” I tell her. “Not worried, just…I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Unbidden thoughts?”

“What do you mean by that?”

Now it’s her turn to shrug. “Just…I know everyone here is a capable warrior. But I know that even with all our preparations, there will still be losses when this is over. And I wonder who it will be. Someone I hardly know? Someone I have just talked to? You? Me?”

She sighs. “Maybe it’s our encounter with those five warriors,” she continues, a frown forming on her forehead. “It was the first time that my life was ever actually threatened. That my survival depended on my skills. That I couldn’t just tap out if it got too rough or hurt too bad.”

I remember the same feeling; that my life was mine to defend because no one else could. It was frightening in its own way, and yet it made me fight even harder; the will to survive taking over every other thought.

And yet I still feel guilty that I couldn’t protect her, though Bo-Katan tried to absolve me from that by telling me that there was nothing I could have done. The feeling lingers none the less.

My traitorous hand moves up on its own account, my index finger carefully tracing the scar that is now on her forehead above her right eye. Though the bacta has done its job and healed most of the wound. The skin is still smooth; it’s more of a slight discoloration than anything else.

I hear her suck in her breath and pull my hand back immediately.

“Sorry,” I blurt out, looking away.

“No, it’s alright. It was just…unexpected.”

“Sorry,” I mumble again.

But then she hooks a finger under my chin, turning my face back so I have to look at her. She’s smiling.

“Really,” she says, “it’s alright.”

She suddenly narrows her eyes.

“You need to shave, my friend.”

“Or I could grow it out,” I answer deadpan.

“You’re gonna look like you’re thirty or something! You need to shave!”

She laughs, and I chuckle. Bo-Katan laughing has become one of my favorite sounds. And maybe I also enjoy the sight of those full, dark red lips curving into a smile and her green eyes sparkling with mirth. So maybe it is my nerves; my mind seeking a distraction before the fight. It feels good none the less.

###

**Ida**

I watch Bo and Fenn Rau; and have to smile. I am too far away to hear them, but I think I can decipher part of their conversation just by watching their body language.

Gareth wasn’t happy when Bo informed him that she had given Fenn permission to call her by her first name. But before Gareth could say anything – especially to Fenn – Bo simply told him he could call her Bo-Katan, too, completely taking the wind out of his sails.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else going on between them?” Tobias suddenly asks next to me.

“What?”

“_Bo’ika_ and Fenn Rau.”

I chuckle but shake my head. “I am sure. They were thoroughly embarrassed to see the other in their underwear, trying really hard to look anywhere else. They’re just friends.”

Tobias nods.

“For now,” I add, grinning.

“Great,” Tobias mutters.

“And even if,” I continue. “We’re at war, Tobias. Shouldn’t they get some happy moments while they have the chance?”

Tobias looks at them again. They are back to eating and talking without touching. Tobias exhales slowly.

“I guess so.”

“You know so,” I tell him. Then I sigh. “They are not Gareth and your mother. She is not someone else’s wife and he isn’t the father to children that are not his own and he can never call his own because you can’t just adopt the children of the _Mand’alor_. Bo and Fenn are not bound by those restrictions. And as much as everyone says Bo and your mother are alike, I think people fail to see that while Bo does her duty to her clan, she would not sacrifice everything for it. Elia wanted to raise children who questioned old traditions, and everyone sees Bo in her armor and fighting and thinks that none of that upbringing stuck, but I dare you to go over to her and tell her to marry Jonah Kellborn for reasons of clan prosperity and political influence.”

Tobias chuckles. “I’d be at the receiving end of a well-aimed punch, I guess.”

“Exactly. She questions old traditions. Just not the ones her mother hoped she would.”

Tobias sighs. “So, you just want me to do and say nothing and just let it play out.”

“Yes, I do,” I tell him. And then I grin and step closer to him; so close that my front is pressing into his, our armor colliding with a dull clung and the scarping sound of _beskar_ against _beskar_. I bring my lips up to his ear and feel him shudder.

“And who are we to talk?” I whisper. “We barely managed to keep our hands to ourselves for like two days. And we knew each other only four weeks when we got married.”

I place a kiss right under his ear. “And here we are, ten years later, and it was still the best decision I have ever made.”

I draw back a little to look at Tobias, but don’t get far as his lips capture mine. And for a few moments, I forget everything else.

###

**Gareth**

I have wandered off a little but leave the camp in sight. I need some quiet to clear my head and prepare for battle. Though it’s probably going to be more of a skirmish. But in the end, it doesn’t matter if it’s a handful or hundreds of enemies. One is enough to kill you.

I haven’t been on Kalevala for ten years. The last time, Tobias and Ida were celebrating their wedding with their clans. Ida’s family is large; her parents, six siblings, nieces, nephews. Her oldest brother has grandchildren by now. The Kryze’s were outnumbered in their own home. But it was a joyous celebration; with laughing adults and squealing children running down the hallways. And I am happy that it lasted. Seeing Tobias and Ida together…the way they look at each other is exactly the same as it had been on that day. Tobias and his siblings are not my children, but they will forever feel like they are. And I am proud of them. And I love them.

Kalevala is my home. It’s the place I was born and raised; the place I spend almost two thirds of my life. It is the place where I slowly lost my heart to another man’s wife and where my happiest and saddest memories were made.

I am sixty-five now, sixty-six in just a few weeks’ time. And I know in my heart that I will not leave Kalevala again. It is a certainty that has settled in my bones during the past few weeks. It will not be tomorrow, but I feel it will be before the end of this war.

It’s like a call; distant, in the back of my mind. A gentle pull toward what lies beyond. And I know there is nothing to be afraid of.

I haven’t dreamt of Bo-Katan, _my_ Bo-Katan, in years. At least not as vividly as I do here. The dreams themselves are simple. We walk together through the woods, without talking, just the silence we both used to crave when the children were smaller. Sometimes she’ll look at me and smile. I want to reach out to her, but I never do.

I take a deep breath and let all my thoughts go as I exhale. There is only me and the sound of the woods around me and I let them wash over me as I prepare my mind for battle.

###

**Wen Raaz (House Vizsla)**

We’re preparing to leave for the Kryze camp. Everyone is exited at the prospect that we’ll finally get to fight – really fight – and to wipe out those _aruetiise_.

I’ve heard others call them _dar’manda_. But the ones we are heading for are warriors. Misguided in their will to protect those weak, peace-loving pacifists perhaps, but I would not go as far as to call them soulless.

But I don’t say anything. And who would I be to talk? A kid who has grown up on a nerf farm on Vorpa’ya. Who would care for my views, really?

No, I am here for the benefit of my clan and my house. I do believe Tor Vizsla has a claim to the throne; not only of old, but because he follows the _Resol’nare_ without questions. We are taught that there is no room for the weak, and the decline of our society has only proven this to me. It is right to challenge House Kryze. I do not doubt that some of them will fight honorably. But I do doubt they will win.

I am a passable fighter, I think. The first time my father took me with him to acutally fight and not just practice was only a few months ago, when we started to attack the pacifists’ outposts. Though _buir_ said he took me too late. That traditionally, seven would be the age to take your children into battle for the first time. But not even Tor Vizsla himself took his children at that young an age.

Be that as it may. We are ready to leave, and as the commander heads out, I fall into step besides the other _verda_ for the three-hour long walk through the dark forest. We’ll attack at first light. And we shall be victorious.

###

**Bo-Katan**

It’s dark now. Not completely though. The moon is no longer full, but still bright enough to douse everything in a silvery glow.

There is hardly any movement now. Except for the sentinels, everyone’s gone to sleep. Or at least tries to. I drift in and out of consciousness, though I have no idea how long I am awake and how long I sleep.

I can’t see all that far, but I can see the people closest to me. Gareth has his eyes closed, but I don’t think he is asleep. His breathing is too slow and too deep for that. Ida on the other hand is completely out. Her head is in _ba’vodu’s_ lap, and she hasn’t moved a muscle for at least fifteen minutes. Tobias is half awake like me. He sometimes opens his eyes to look around, only to close them again and for his bearded chin to slowly sink to his chest.

I lean half against the tree and half against Fenn, using his shoulder guard as a pillow. A very hard pillow, and yet not uncomfortable. Fenn’s breathing is slow but shallow, indicating that he’s asleep.

I can still feel my skin prickle where Fenn ran his finger in a feather-light touch along the scar on my forehead. I know it was an unconscious touch; a physical manifestation of his thoughts. And I was truly surprised by it. But again, like the embrace in the woods two days ago, my subconscious tells me that it was nice. Fenn’s as tough as anyone around here, but there is gentle and caring side to him, and I am glad that he lets his guard down around me so easily. Despite everything I’ve lost, I am happy to have gained him as a friend.

###

**Tobias**

The call comes just before dawn. It’s the call of a nocturnal bird, nothing you’d usually hear at this hour. It’s unlikely the Vizslas will know that, but we do.

In the way everybody’s on their feet within seconds, I can tell that everyone was at least half awake by now. People pull out the stims. Ida hates them, because they fool the body into believing that it had a full night’s rest and three square meals, even if you’re already dead on your feet. And they are addictive if taken too liberally. But there is no time for real food, and no one ever has a good night’s rest when their life is on the line. Well, except maybe Ida. That woman can sleep bloody everywhere. But even Ida takes her shot, even if it is with a sour expression on her face.

I use the chance I get before she puts her helmet on and kiss her.

“_K’oyayci, ner cyar'ika_,” I whisper in her ear. _Stay alive, my love._

“_K’oyayci, ner di’kut_,” is what she whispers back. _Stay alive, my idiot._ I grin.

There are many things people see in Ida. Her long hair, pale complexion, and caring nature seem to fool people into believing that she is sort of…harmless…despite the armor she wears. But Ida is a Rodarch at heart. Like the asharl panther of their sigil or the dark forests of her home world, there is something wild and untamable about her, hidden deep inside. But when unleashed…it is truly beautiful and frightening at the same time.

Ida puts her helmet on and starts to climb up the tree we’ve been sleeping under. She has no trouble at all. Her home world of Cheravh is full of high and dark trees, and Ida has climbed plenty in her life.

I walk over to Bo-Katan, Gareth and Fenn Rau. I can tell Bo and Fenn Rau are slightly nervous, but they hide it well. I remember how shaken I was the first time I had to actually fight for my live with my bare hands. It’s one thing to shoot at someone, it’s something else to be thrown back on your own skill and to fight someone whose eyes you could see if they wouldn’t wear a helmet.

But that nervousness will fade over time. It’s something Gareth explained to me when I was about fifteen, I think. He called it _ramikadyc_ – a commando’s state of mind, a sort of complete trust in yourself and your training.

But despite the nervousness, they carry themselves well. There is something about that picture – Bo in the middle with her helmet in her hand and the two Protectors framing her, backs straight and helmets tugged under their arms – that makes my heart ache. As I have done before, I wish Bo-Katan had been born sooner. Satine may be the Duchess, but Bo-Katan could be a _Mand’alor_.

I pull Bo-Katan into a hug, and I feel her arms around my middle. There are many things I want to tell her; to be careful, to not take to much risks. I want to tell her Protectors to keep her from harm, to keep her safe. But that would not be what any of them would want to hear, or what they need to her.

I release Bo and offer my hand to Fenn Rau. He looks surprised, like the day I asked him if I could join him with my fang fighter, but he takes my proffered forearm none the less.

Then I turn to Gareth. I used to be smaller than him until I hit a late growth spurt at around eighteen. Now, I am just slightly taller, but not by much. It used to be Gareth who would lean down to touch his forehead to mine. By now, it’s the other way around.

Between a man and a woman, this gesture would be as intimate as a kiss. It’s a remnant of the ancient times when helmets were never taken off outside the circle of your closest family; it is still the closest thing to a kiss when wearing a helmet. It is also a gesture of love between a parent and a child. And Gareth is a parent to me in all the ways that matter. _Venjii an, aliit ori’shya tal’din. After all, family is more than blood._

I release Gareth and look at the three of them again, and I think I know what to say now.

“Protect each other,” I tell them.

Fenn Rau nods, Bo smiles, and Gareth’s eyes show a look of approval.

I watch as they don their helmets and start to climb their tree.

###

** If you do not want to read about violence, skip from here… **

**Wen Raaz**

The walk toward the Kryze camp has been uneventful, and we have now moved around the camp to the west. As far as I could gather from the briefing, it’s the best entry point. I have to take that for granted. I am no strategist. But I don’t need to be. I trust the commander will make the right choices. He has been appointed by Tor Vizsla himself, and I am sure he would not entrust any random warriors with taking the Kryze’s home planet. All I need to do is follow orders. It might not be the most prestigious thing, but it is what will keep me alive and what makes the difference between a horde and an army. And we _are_ an army.

It is dawn; the sky is changing colors, even if the sun is not yet over the horizon. We are hiding behind the large trees, watching the camp. There are only a few people about at this hour. I can see two warriors sitting by a dwindling fire. There is smoke coming from what is most likely the kitchen tent. The rest seems to still be sound asleep. I guess some of them will never wake up again.

The comm inside my helmet is crackling, and I hear the commanders voice.

“Squads one and two, move into position, then wait for my signal.”

I watch as two groups of four warriors each move toward the camp, staying under the cover of the trees for as long as possible. Since the camp is not much smaller than the clearing it’s in, they only have to cross a handful of meters before they are hidden behind the outer walls of some tents.

“Squads in position,” I hear over the comm.

“Prepare detonators.”

There isn’t much to see from where I am standing. I know they plant detonators, it’s what the briefing said they’d do. Kill most of the enemy in their sleep. Not strictly honorable maybe, but affective.

“Charges set.”

“Retreat to the safe distance.”

A few moments later, the squads are backed up far enough.

“Detonate.”

The sound is deafening, even though the helmets muffles it somewhat. A wall of fire erupts around the camp, blocking our view.

“First wave,” the commander bellows through the comm, “move out!”

I see half of our warriors advance toward the flaming mess and pass into the inner circle of the camp. Through the open comm, I can hear that they are met with blaster fire, but not much.

“Two enemies down, three retreating to the eastern side of camp,” I am informed over the comm.

That makes five. Where is the rest of them? Have they all died in the explosion?

I hear more blaster fire, but it’s not coming from the camp. No, it’s all around me suddenly, seeming to come from all directions and from nowhere at all. I duck instinctively. Around me, others are going down.

Where the hell is the enemy?

###

**Gareth**

I hate heights, I really do, but this is working better than I would have thought. Bo-Katan’s notion that the Vizslas never look up held true. They stopped right below us, never bothering to check for enemies from above. Jet packs are of no use in a forest, as the Vizslas have already learned apparently. And without a jet pack, I guess they figure that no one can be higher up than they are. Bloody fools from desert and farm worlds.

Half of them are inside the camp, the other half below us is frantically looking around, trying to find us. It takes them several moments before one of them finally yells: “They’re in the trees!”

They start to shoot up at us, but we have the far better angle. And as they are divided, we’re not only having the higher ground, but also the greater numbers, especially now, since about ten of them are already down and no longer moving.

If only Roland’s men would arrive! Where the hell are they? Roland said 40 hours. They should be here by now. Roland and I may insult each other for fun a lot ever since we were children, but I do trust him. Maybe they ran into trouble on the way. Let’s hope that trouble wasn’t too big.

The Vizslas who have entered the camp are coming back now, increasing their numbers again. But still, they don’t have the best of chances, right now. But as Tobias reminded everyone, Vizslas are not known to be stupid, but ruthless. And they warriors coming back now seem to be much more experienced and battle-hardened than the ones that stayed here.

They are more deliberate in their movements and their aim is much better. I hear a strangled cry of pain through the open comm, and see a man fall out of the tree he’s been up on. If the shot didn’t kill him, the fall most likely does.

“Sharp shooters, stay up here,” I hear Tobias’s voice through the comm. “Everybody else, work your way down. Let’s deal with them properly.”

“You two first,” I hear Bo-Katan. “I’ll cover you.”

Fenn and I start to climb down, stopping every few meters to cover Bo-Katan as she climbs down after us. And then we’re on the ground, and the real fighting begins.

###

**Fenn**

We took out enough of their numbers to even the odds. And with the five sharp shooters still up in the trees, I see more enemies go down without another warrior being near them.

But like in the woods a few days ago, down here it is close combat. As soon as were down from the tree, enemies come at us.

I don’t know how long it goes on. The adrenaline and the will to survive are taking over. There is no thought, only action. I deal with whoever comes at me.

Tobias has encouraged Bo-Katan and me to make full use of everything we have at our disposal, not just blasters and hand-to-hand, but the full arsenal the vambraces have to offer.

There is a woman coming at me, firing wildly. Most of her blaster bolts fly past me, because she’s only aiming in my general direction. The one or two bolts that find me hit only armor, the _beskar_ deflection the shots. I let the grappling hook shoot from my left vambrace, the cable curling around the woman’s right forearm, making her drop her weapon. I pull her toward me, letting the automated retraction help. She stumbles and I pull at the cable so she has to turn. She falls against me, her back hitting my chest. I press the nozzle of my blaster into her unarmored side and pull the trigger.

###

**Ida**

People forget that when you know how to heal, you also know how to kill. It is extraordinary what the human body can endure and come back from. But, like every organism, it has its weaknesses. Armor should protect those weak points, and it mostly does. Chest, stomach; all well-protected. But without jet packs, the kidneys are exposed. There is no armor at the carotid artery. And none at the aorta in the thigh. If you know where to strike, all armor becomes useless. And I know exactly where to strike.

The man I am fighting is much burlier than I am, but that is only a minor obstacle. I can duck or dance out of the way of his blows. I can’t reach his neck, and he is clever enough to not turn his back to me. So, all I need is one single opening for a well-aimed slash at his leg.

He can’t really land a blow on me, and he’s getting frustrated, his movements becoming less coordinated and more impulsive. He’s going for my head now, throwing wild punches, leaving his front almost unprotected. And his armor _would_ protect him, should I venture close enough to hit him. I don’t, of course. The force he’s packing into his swings; if one of those hit my head, it would probably snap my neck.

But I need to get closer. But then he makes a mistake; he’s drawing his fist back, far back behind his ear, slight turning his body, but his stance firm. Legs spread wide; knees slightly bend. I tighten the hold on the vibro blade and role forward.

I hear him curse, but he cannot react fast enough. I role between his widespread legs and plunge the knife into the inside of his left thigh, twisting it and pulling it back out as I push myself back up into a standing position, turning around to him again quickly into a ready stance.

He twists around and lunges for me, putting his weight on the now bleeding leg and loses his balance. I step back and let him fall faceplate first into the dirt. He reaches for his blaster, but I am already ahead of him, aiming my own blaster at his unprotected lower back and fire. I direct shot in the right area for the kidneys.

I look down at the man, the blood oozing out of his leg and into the dark soil, making it glisten in the first rays of sunlight. I know the man will be dead within minutes. I turn around and let him lie there, his life flowing out of him with every beat of his heart.

###

**Wen Raaz**

Somewhere in all of this, my brain has time to wonder how I am still alive. I am neither the most skilled nor the most experienced. But here I am, still standing while others lie dead or dying on the soft dark soil and rust-colored leaves of a foreign planet.

But I need to keep fighting. I pick my next target. She’s a few feet away from me. A woman in purple and silver armor; definitely a Kryze. Her slender build makes me think she’s more of a girl than a woman. Even better.

I take a shot at her, but my aim is a bit off. It hits her shoulder guard, the _beskar_ deflecting the shot without problem. There isn’t even a dent in it. Must be real _beskar_.

She turns toward me. She doesn’t even pause but comes right at me. There is something about the way she moves that makes me take a step back. There are only a few hunters on Vorpa’ya, but my father took me to see a great hunt for wild nerf out in the plains once. I remember how those hunters moved, and this girl moves just like them. She has hunted before, and I am her prey.

For the first time since we arrived on Kalevala, I feel fear. I feel it creeping up from my stomach into my throat and sprawl into my chest.

The girl attacks, and I can only make feeble attempts to ward her off. Where I had hope that her young age might even the odds between us, I can tell that she has had far more combat training than I ever received in my life.

She pushes forward and I move backward. I duck my head behind my raised arms, and let her blows hit me.

And then someone crashes into her, momentarily taking her down with them. Her helmet comes off, revealing a flash of fiery red hair. While I stare, she gets back up, her attention focusing back at me. Her face is pale and freckled, with high cheek bones and pretty lips. But her eyes scare me; green and yellow and determined.

I am rooted at the spot; I cannot do anything as she comes at me again.

And then all I feel is pain. Pain as her blows and kicks hit me where my armor doesn’t cover me. I fall backward, my head hitting the ground and my own helmet coming off. I crawl backward, the last bit of my survival instinct kicking in. She aims at me with her vambrace, the yellow bolt forming and

###

**Bo-Katan**

For just the fraction of a second, the boy’s face registers. Curly, ash-blond air, wide, light blue eyes, a few pimples, and an expression of pure fear. And then the blaster bolt from my vambrace hits him, and he is gone.

But before I can stop and think, I am attacked again. The guy who pummeled into me has made it to his feet and is shooting at me, the first bolt missing my face only by inches. I raise my left arm and activate the shield to protect my head, and fire back. But this guy has two blasters and is a good shot. One of his bolts grazes my right arm, almost making me drop my own blaster.

And then he suddenly stops, his back arching slightly, and he drops to the ground, a blaster wound in his lower back. I look up and see Fenn standing there, blaster still pointed.

I pick my helmet back up and shove it back over my head and cross the few steps to Fenn. We position ourselves back to back, blasters pointed outward. The adrenaline and the stim shot are doing a fine job; the pain of the graze subdued for now.

For a few moments, we can take stock. I think there are about twenty left of each side, everyone equally determined to live.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, another group of warriors appears between the trees. Their armor comes in such a variety of colors and sigils that I cannot tell if they are House Vizsla or House Kryze. They are spearheaded by a man and a woman, and the cry the man lets out leaves no doubt as to who they are.

###

**Gareth**

“_Par Kalevala!_”

Stars, I have never been this glad to hear Roland’s voice. I watch as more than fifty warriors echo his cry and begin to storm the small battlefield. It’s a sight to remember. A sight to put fear even into the bravest of enemies.

To the credit of the remaining Vizsla warriors, they don’t run. They make a stand and fight back, even managing to take down a few of ours. But in the end, there is nothing they can do. In the end, they are all dead.

When it is all over, there are no cheers. There is nothing to cheer about. We lost half of our warriors in this. All the Vizslas are dead. Roland lost another handful in the last few minutes of this skirmish. That makes for seventy dead altogether.

I heave a sigh. There will be time to grieve later. Now it is time to tend to those alive.

I walk over to Tobias who is holding his right shoulder. It looks dislocated, but apart from that he seems fine. He looks at me and smiles, though the smile is pained. I grab his neck and pull his forehead down to mine. I hear him let out a shaky breath, something only I can hear, before he straightens up again.

I hear Ida’s voice drifting over to us; the voice of an experienced doctor and field medic, barking out orders at someone to put more pressure on someone else’s wound.

Bo-Katan and Fenn are walking over to us. There is a graze on Bo-Katan’s upper arm. It’s not really bleeding; the heat of the bolt probably cauterized the wound. Still…

“You should get that looked at, my Lady,” I tell her, pointing at her arm.

“I will,” she says. “But there are others who need medical attention much more than I do.”

I nod and give Fenn a look.

“I’ll make sure she gets there,” he says in response.

I nod again. It’s what I wanted to hear.

Eventually, Roland and Ruu walk over to us, their helmets tugged under their arms.

“Sorry it took us this long,” Roland says, and he sound sincere for a change. “We decided to not only send a few men, but to pack up and come down here with everyone.”

“Same here,” Ruu says. “We figured that our area is well covered by Faustus and his warriors, so we decided to come down here, too. If the plan still is to take out their base in the marshes, you’ll need every warrior you can get. I didn’t plan to run into this _di’kut_ on the way,” she says, pointing at Roland, “but here we are.”

“I am glad you did,” Tobias says.

Roland looks around and huffs out a sigh. “Tell you what,” he says. “I’ll get some of my men to help you get your wounded and remaining equipment to wherever you want them. Just leave us the coordinates and we’ll do the clean-up.”

Tobias nods. “That would be much appreciated,” he says. “_Vor entye._”

Roland pats Tobias’s good shoulder. “Don’t worry, kiddo. You’ve all done enough for today.”

I shake my head. Only Roland would call someone like Tobias Kryze _kiddo._ Then again, who am I to talk.

###

** …and keep reading here. **

**Fenn**

The warm and sunny day is such a contrast to how I feel. The stims are wearing off, and I feel like I could fall asleep where I am standing. But that’s not an option.

Lady Ida had finally managed to take a look at Bo-Katan’s arm and to press some disinfectant, wipes and a large bacta patch into my hands.

“You can do that,” she had said, sounding tired. But she had smiled at Bo-Katan. “Sorry, _ad’ika_. I don’t mean to sound harsh. But there are others who actually need a doctor.”

“It’s fine, Aunt Ida,” Bo-Katan had told her.

So, here we are, sitting on a fallen tree, with Bo-Katan stripping off her armor. But the graze must hurt, and I can see her scrunch up her face and hiss as she tries – and fails – to take of her left shoulder guard with her right hand.

“Here,” I say. “You do the front; I do the guard.”

She nods and lets me detach it. I also have to help her out of the undershirt and the compression top. She’s wearing a tank top underneath, the black fabric a stark contrast to her pale skin. There are freckles on her shoulders and on her chest, and I find myself wondering – not for the first time – how far down those freckles go. The bruise from three days ago is still there, large and bluish.

I focus back on the graze on her arm.

“This is going to sting,” I warn her.

“I’ll try to hold still.”

I pull off my gloves and use the disinfectant on my hands first. Then I douse some of the wipes in it. This time, I am prepared for the instinctual reaction to pull away and curl my left hand around her right arm to hold it in place.

Others might look away, but Bo-Katan does not. She sucks in a breath as the disinfectant makes contact with the wound, and I do feel a light pull of her arm, but she holds still otherwise. After I am satisfied that the wound is clean, I put the bacta patch over it.

“Thank you,” she says.

I shrug. “Sure thing.”

“For saving my life,” she adds.

I look at her. Her eyes are almost emerald in this light, the yellowish flecks nearly invisible. For a second, I allow my gaze to roam over her face. Over her high cheekbones and the dusting of freckles, the scar on her forehead, and her full, red lips.

There is a part of me that wants to lean in and capture those lips with mine; to kiss her until we are both breathless. To embrace her and pull her close; to lose myself in her arms until all the pictures in my head from today are gone and all that is left is her scent in my nose and her soft noises in my ear.

But I push those thoughts away. I am her Protector and her friend, and those are not the thoughts I should have about her. All I should be concerned with is her safety and her well-being.

So, instead, I smile at her and answer her. “Anytime.”

###

**Bo-Katan**

It’s dark now, and it feels like this day is finally coming to an end. Ida has all the wounded that still need medical attention stay in the small cave system. She had been smart enough to set up her medical equipment in there. Ruu’s medic is staying with them now, allowing Ida to finally sit down and get a bite to eat.

With Ruu’s and Roland’s entire groups here, the makeshift camp we set up is sprawling all around the cave entrance into the woods. We have sent out scouts, but they came back reporting no enemy contacts. There are sentinels in the trees just in case. We risked lighting small fires, needing the warmth and the light.

I sit by a fire with _ba’vodu_, Ida, Gareth and Fenn. All our food was stored in the small cave system, and though jerky might not be a culinary highlight, it is still better than rations. But there’s also bread and berries; and it makes for a good enough dinner. The taste of real food is somewhat grounding, allowing my body to finally come down from all that has happened today.

Someone seems to have brought a substantial amount of alcohol. There are several bottles of _tihaar_ going around. Gareth gets one from a neighboring fire, takes a swig, and passes it to Tobias. He, too, takes a what looks like a big gulp, passing the bottle to Ida. Ida looks at the bottle.

“One sip won’t kill your patients, _ad’ika_,” Gareth says.

Ida sighs, shrugs, and takes a sip. A small one, by the look of it.

She passes the bottle to me. I’ve drunk _tihaar_ before. Not so much to really be drunk, but enough to know its effects, and how quickly they can come on. I also know that a few sips will be fine. So, I put the bottle to my lips and take a swallow.

It’s strong and tastes a little different than the one you get in Sundari. Probably made from different fruits here on Kalevala than on _Manda’yaim_. I feel it burning in my throat and warm my insides immediately.

I feel _ba’vodu_ looking at me. “Not your first round, I take it,” he says, more of a statement and not an accusation. I shrug and Tobias huffs out a laugh. I pass the bottle to Fenn.

Fenn takes his own swig and passes the bottle back to Gareth who puts it down between his feet. It’s gonna go around again later, I think.

Tobias sighs. “It’s as good a time as any, I guess,” he says, and Gareth makes an affirmative noise.

“No way around it either,” Gareth answers.

Tobias takes a deep breath and gets up. I let my gaze follow him to the center of our makeshift camp. Roland and Ruu get up, too, and join him. Ida scoots closer until she is right next to me.

It gets really quiet all of a sudden, everyone’s eyes are on the three commanders. Then all the older warriors get up, and the rest of us follow. I see Gareth put a hand on Fenn’s shoulder, and then feel Ida’s hand in mine. I take Fenn’s hand instinctively and feel his fingers curl around mine. I look around and see that everyone else also seems to have done the same; some have their hands clasped with someone else, others have put their hands on someone else’s shoulder, others even embrace.

When everyone is up and the rustling of the movements has stopped, _ba’vodu_ raises his voice. There aren’t many words, but they weigh tons, giving voice to the loss.

“_Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum._” _I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal._

It is followed by the names of all who died today. In the silence that follows, I know everyone is adding the names of their own loved ones who are gone. I add Mother, Dorian and Father. How long will my list be when this war is over? And who will be on it?

After a while, people start to move again. Ida squeezes my hand and then lets it go. And I am suddenly very aware of Fenn’s hand around mine. For a few heartbeats, I am tempted to leave my hand where it is. Fenn’s hand around mine feels good, after all. Solid and warm and comforting. But then I do as Ida did. I squeeze his hand and let go, my fingers suddenly very cold at the loss of contact.

Tobias comes back to our fire and settles back down between Gareth and Ida. The _tihaar_ makes another round around the fire.

There is nothing else to do today but to go to sleep. Most people settle down _on_ their sleeping bags. It’s warm, and everyone is still in armor anyway.

I lie down, too. For a second I wonder if I can even sleep, but as soon as my head hits the sleeping back, my eyes start drooping, my body already numb and heavy. I close my eyes and let sleep take me.

###

I wake suddenly. I am panting and I am disorientated. I sit up, but it is dark and the world around me is spinning.

The spinning slows down as I feel two hands on my upper arms.

“Bo-Katan.” It’s Fenn’s voice. Just a whisper, but enough to get through to me. “Bo-Katan, look at me.”

I do. His face is barely visible in the darkness with only the dim glow of the embers left of the fires to illuminate it. His brows are knotted in concern, but his eyes are understanding.

“You want to walk a bit?” he asks, and I nod.

I let him pull me up, and we make our way into the trees. We don’t walk far, only far enough to talk without waking anyone.

“Why are you up?” I venture after I am sure we’re out of earshot.

“Pictures of today,” he answers. Then he takes a deep breath and goes on. “It’s not that I have never been responsible for the end of someone’s life. Concord Dawn is at the intersection of several hyperspace lanes. We continuously deal with smugglers and pirates and other folks who have no business in our sector. Sometimes it’s enough to give them a little chase, sometimes all you can do is take them out. I’ve shot down more than one vessel in the past year alone.

“But that’s all…impersonal. This kind of fighting is not. I may not see the face behind the visor, but…I still know I took the life of those people. I know they struggled just as much as I did. And I know that somewhere, there is someone who will recite their names when they’ll realize that their loved ones are not coming back.”

He falls silent, looking away from me and into the dark of the forest.

“I keep seeing that boy’s face,” I say eventually. “He looked so young, Fenn. I think he was our age, but he looked so much younger. And in the end, he was just afraid. I could see it in his eyes. Not afraid to die, maybe, but still. Something about him reminded me of Cal. They look nothing alike, but…”

I stop and heave a breath.

“I miss them,” I say, and I hear my own voice quiver. “My parents, my siblings. I miss my mother and Dorian and Father. And I miss my sister; her kindness and her council. And I miss Cal and…and… And I am afraid for them. Afraid that someone will stand over them like I stood over that boy…My stupid beloved pacifist siblings who might not even fight back. Who’s lives might just go out like the life of that boy…I…”

I feel the tears spill and wipe them away, but new ones are already running down my cheeks.

And suddenly, I am in Fenn’s arms. I snake my arms around his middle and hold on to him like a lifeline as I allow all tears to silently stream down my face.

Fenn doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t have to. I can feel him heave a few shaky breaths himself, his arms tightening around me even more.

We stand there until the worst is over and we have both calmed down. I look up at Fenn but don’t let go yet. The bit of light from the camp that makes it all the way here into the trees is barely enough to see his face, but his eyes…damn, those bright blue eyes.

For a few seconds, the feeling of comfort gives way to need and want, and I am tempted to push myself up on my toes and kiss him. To pull all the armor away until all I can feel is heated skin and all there is left to hear are panting breaths.

But I don’t. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, pushing those thoughts down and allowing the warm feeling of comfort back to the forefront.

I open my eyes again and smile up at Fenn, and I see him smile down at me.

“Try for sleep again?” he asks, his voice a bit rough.

“Yes.”

We release the other from our embrace and slowly walk back to the fire. I pull my sleeping bag next to Fenn’s before I lie down. I let my hand wander until I find his and lace my fingers with his. And with Fenn’s hand warm and solid around mine, exhaustion wins, and I drift off to sleep.

###

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_Gareth came home today after he’d been at his village for a few days to see to his mother’s funeral. She had died unexpectedly a few days ago, and the shock and grief had been plain of Gareth’s face when the news reached him._

_I was playing in the library with the boys because of the bad weather as Gareth suddenly appeared in the door. The boys were ecstatic to see him, running over to him and throwing their arms around his legs. Gareth dropped to one knee to pull the boys into a hug. Then he told them to run into his room and take a look at his bag. There might be something in there for them. The boys were off in seconds._

_It was the first time in half a year that Gareth and I were alone. After our fight, we tried to keep more of a distance from each other. It was strange, and yet somewhat necessary._

_But today… Gareth walked over to me and we embraced. Despite our argument, we are friends, and he needed comfort. It was a delicate embrace, but that was due to my ever-growing belly._

_And then Gareth pressed his forehead to mine; a gesture as intimate as kiss, and yet I didn’t draw my head back. But Gareth quickly did, his cheeks red with embarrassment. I told him it was fine. And it was._

_I saw his hand twitch then, like he wanted to place it on my belly. All the other women do now and then, but not the men. I told him to go ahead and he did. It was a gentle touch, and I placed my hand over his. And then, quite suddenly, the child moved and aimed a kick at where our hands were. And I watched Gareth’s eyes light up in awe and wonder. And I know he will be like a father to this child as much as he is to Adonai and Tobias._

_I have struggled to come up with a name for this one for weeks now. But I think I have come to a decision. If Gareth agrees, I’d like to name her after his mother. If Gareth agrees, this child will be called Alanna._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations**  
_Par Kalevala!_ \- For Kalevala!  
_Vor entye_ \- Thank you. (lit.: I accept a debt.)


	15. The Wandering Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group sets out toward the marshland but is delayed, Gareth and Bo have a talk about the prize of ruling, Bo gets a chance to talk to Satine, and Fenn makes good on his word to sing Bo to sleep with a Concordian lament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Bo-Katan’s POV. I had different plans for this chapter, and then got side-tracked. But a little rest in between seems appropriate.
> 
> Given that Mandalorians tend to grab every experience (Shereshoy!), I was wondering if Bo and Fenn might be a bit too slow getting there by Mandalorian standards. But no, they’re not. I personally like the suspense, and you guys just have to suffer along with me…

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_The boys had noticed that Gareth has been very quiet these past few days. So, naturally, they went to go cheer him up, basically invading the poor man’s room without any notice._

_Among the things Gareth inherited from his mother are a bunch of pictures and a camera. He had the data pad and the camera out, and the boys were excited and talked about nothing else the whole day. After dinner, Gareth came up and sat down with the boys in the library, and let them flick through the pictures, explaining who the people were._

_For one picture, Adonai told me to come look, because the man in the picture – who looked a lot like an older version of Gareth – had a hunting bow just like I do. In the next picture, the man was showing a young boy how to hold it, even though the bow was still too big for the child. It was Adonai that realized the boy in the picture was Gareth._

_Gareth said his mother had the habit to take pictures all the time. Of course, now all the boys want to do is take pictures with Gareth’s camera. I was about to lecture them on the sanctity of heirlooms, but before I could do that, Gareth was explaining the camera to Adonai and Tobias. To my own surprise, the boys handled the camera with utter care. And, how else could it be, took about a hundred pictures of everything in the library. They insisted I take one of them and Gareth, and then had Gareth take one of them with me._

_Today, when I came back to the study after lunch, I found a picture frame on my desk. It’s the picture Gareth took of me and the boys. It’s a lovely picture, really. Maybe because it’s not staged. My look is somewhere between annoyed and amused as I kneel on the floor to cuddle the boys, Adonai is grinning, showing first tooth gap, and Tobias is leaning his head against my chest, one hand on my round belly, a sort of dreamy look on his face._

_My first thought was to put it up in the bedroom, but then I thought better of it. It’s going to stay right here on the desk._

###

We’ve been on the move for two days now. Sixty people trudging through the sprawling forest, carrying not only their own belongings but also equipment. Everything that could be spared is stored in the small cave system. Everything else has to be brought.

It wouldn’t be as bad as it is if the weather had stayed as nice as it has been for the past few weeks. But it didn’t. It now alternates between strong winds and heavy rain or a combination of the two, hauling rain drops at us like small projectiles.

For the first few minutes of it, Fenn and I were mesmerized by water literally falling out of the sky. We took our helmets and gloves off, holding our hands into the rain and sticking our tongues out to catch the taste. Several people may have laughed, but we didn’t care. We have never seen or felt rain before.

But what was fun for the first few minutes turned out to be gruesome in the long run. The helmets keep our heads mercifully dry. But the rest? The sturdy fabric of the underclothes might ward off the rain from a small rain shower, but heavy rains for days on end? No. We’re all drenched.

We’ve stopped now to rest a bit, and everyone is huddling close to the tree trunks to be as protected as possible.

Fenn and I are about to drop on the ground next to a large tree when _ba’vodu_ waves us over. We both sigh but walk over to Tobias none the less, our boots making squelching sounds in the muddy ground as we walk.

Ida, Gareth, Ruu and Roland have also gathered around _ba’vodu_. Tobias holds out a small holo projector and a map of the surrounding area appears.

“We need to find a place to stay for the next few days,” Tobias cuts right to the point. “The forecast says it’s going to stay like this for at least four more days, if not an entire week. We can’t walk all the way to the marshlands in this weather.”

“No, we can’t,” Ida agrees. “Apart from what weather like this does to moral, people will start to catch the good old common cold if we keep out in this rain.”

Heads are nodded in agreement.

“So, where to?” Roland asks.

“What is there around here?” Ruu wants to know.

“Can you widen the scope of the map?” Gareth asks, and _ba’vodu_ zooms out.

“Here,” Gareth points to a small hollow about half a day’s walk south of where we are. “_Acy'ra be Ka'ra_. The valley of stars.”

“The old outpost,” Tobias says, like he just remembered it.

“Exactly. Unless the Vizslas have found it and taken it, it should be big enough to provide shelter for everyone. Might be a bit crowded, but that’s still better than being wet to the bone.”

“There is an outpost there?” Ruu asks, surprised.

“No,” _ba’vodu_ answers. “At least not anymore. It used to be an outpost, but it’s been abandoned about four hundred years ago. It’s partially in ruins now and not really inhabitable by a long shot, but it would provide enough shelter.”

“Ever been there?” Roland asks.

“Yes, actually,” Tobias says. “Hunting trips with my mother, so it’s been a while. But I think it’s worth checking out. It’s still in the general direction we need to go anyway, so it wouldn’t take us out of the way.”

“I’m fine with anything that puts a roof over my head,” Ruu says.

“Yeah, me, too,” Roland agrees.

_Ba’vodu _looks at Ida, Fenn and me.

“I’ll take it if it’s dry,” Ida answers.

“Me, too,” Fenn says.

“Sound good to me,” I add last.

_Ba’vodu_ nods. “Alright then. Let’s rest a bit and eat something, and then we’ll move.”

###

As we keep walking toward the hopefully uninhabited outpost, Roland falls back to walk beside Fenn and me.

“Your name’s Fenn Rau, right?” he asks.

I can see Fenn turn his head toward Roland and I can imagine the surprised look behind the visor, even if I can’t see his face.

“Yes, my lord,” Fenn answers.

“I think you know my brother’s grandson.”

Fenn is silent for a moment, then he seems to make a connection.

“Alec,” he answers.

“Yes,” Roland confirms. “Pilot on Concord Dawn, same as you.”

Fenn nods. “You have any news how he’s doing, my lord?”

“My brother says he’s been released from the hospital and is now staying with the other Protectors.”

“But?”

So, Fenn heard that unsaid _but_, too.

Roland is quiet for a few seconds, but then he answers.

“Hasn’t gotten back in a fighter since.”

Fenn sighs, but nods. “I’m not surprised,” he says, and sounds like he truly isn’t. But he does sound somewhat resigned.

“Bacta heals the body,” Fenn continues, “but not the mind. I’ve seen other pilots with similar injuries as his who have been pulled out of burning wreckages. None of them were ever quite the same afterwards. And only a few ever pilot a fighter after that again.”

Roland nods. “What happens if he doesn’t get back in a fighter?”

Fenn shrugs. “The Protectors serve the throne,” he answers. “And there are many ways to do that. Flying is only a small part. Most Protectors are stationed in Sundari or one of its outposts. They are tasked with protection, security, intel, that sort of things.

“Look at it this way,” he continues. “Gareth hates flying, but I don’t think there is another Protector Lord Tobias trusts as explicitly as him. Torrack probably hasn’t piloted a fighter since basic training, and yet he is the head of the Protectors. Alec is a good pilot, my lord, but it’s not his only skill.”

I look at Fenn with heartfelt admiration. I already know that he’s smart, and Tobias would not have included him in that little lesson about leading if he didn’t think Fenn capable – he even said as much. But to see Fenn actually act on that potential – to be this considerate about Alec, what happened to him, and what he could still achieve – that is something different altogether.

Roland nods slowly. “Thank you,” he says, sounding earnest.

He makes his way back to the front of the column, and Fenn and I walk in silence for a few moments.

“Do you miss flying?” I venture eventually.

“Sometimes,” Fenn admits. “Not as much as I was afraid I would, though.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I inquire.

Fenn chuckles a bit. “You see, when we were first ordered back to Sundari and were informed that we were to be integrated into the palace’s duty roster, I did dread it a bit. Alec said something like – and please keep in mind that these are not my words – he said that we would be standing guard in some lonely corridor so some pampered princess could walk there undisturbed.”

I punch Fenn in the arm none the less.

“Ouch!”

“You can hand that down to Alec when you see him again.”

“I sure will,” he says, rubbing his arm right below his shoulder guard.

“But to get back to your question,” he continues, “we are neither in a forsaken palace corridor, nor are you pampered. So, I would say it’s a good thing.”

I huff out a laugh and shake my head.

“No, honestly,” Fenn says. “Of all the places I could be during this war, I am glad I am here.”

“Yeah, me, too,” I answer, before I can even think about it.

And I _am_ glad that I am here and nowhere else. I am thankful for the people I’m with, the places I get to see, and the comradery I experience among the warriors of my clan and house. This place and these people feel more like home than the Sundari palace ever has. I miss my siblings, yes, and I wish they would be here, but I do not miss court. My family was what made the palace my home. And now my family is here.

And here on Kalevala with these people, I experience a strange combination of purpose and freedom; and there is a part of me that never wants to go back ever again.

###

We reach the valley in the early afternoon. We lie low at the edge of the forest as several small scout groups set out to assess the situation in and around the valley.

They come back about two hours later, giving the all clear. The outpost is empty, and there is no sign of enemy troops around.

We cross the valley and climb up on the other side. The outpost is a rocky structure, nestled into the side of a steep hill, and looks as abandoned as the scouts reported.

The main part of the outpost is about as big as the main house back at the stronghold, the general layout quite similar. The upper levels seem to have mostly collapsed, but the ground floor is almost completely intact. The walls that used to surround the perimeter are almost completely intact, too.

Ruu, Roland and Tobias are quick to direct people and material. A command tent is put up in the courtyard, as is the ‘fresher tent with sonic showers and stuff. The kitchen and mess tent are set up in what looks like the remains of an old barn. Medical is put up in the outpost’s old kitchen. Laundry puts up their things in what probably was the old laundry anyway. Good thing really that Ruu and Roland brought their entire camps. Our tents are almost completely gone as they’ve gotten blown up when the Vizslas attacked our camp.

The other rooms in the outpost will serve as sleeping quarters for now. Ida has heating lamps distributed among those, as everybody needs to warm up.

The people on kitchen duty are the first ones to get a round in the ‘fresher. Once they’re done, they get the kitchen going while the sentinels move to the ‘fresher.

I get to share a room with Ida, Tobias, Gareth and Fenn. We all peel off our armor, stacking the pieces as neatly as possible against the walls. The undershirts and pants come off, too, leaving us all in our compression suits.

Ruu sticks her head into our room.

“Come on, girls,” she says, grinning. “Time for a shower.”

Ida and I get our spare clothes out of the backpacks. The backpacks are waterproof, and our clothes wonderfully dry. We drop our wet under suits in the laundry on the way to the ‘fresher.

For once, I am glad it’s a sonic shower. I don’t know if I could take any more water from above right now. Privacy goes overboard here, as the showers are not separated, and there are about ten women showering at once.

Ida unties her hair, letting it fall in a long, wavy curtain down her back all the way to her waist. I know I stare, but I have just never seen hair that long.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable under a helmet?” Ruu asks, ruffling her own short hair as she puts dry shampoo in it.

“No, it’s fine actually,” Ida answers with a smile. “It would be harder if it was just medium length, really. This long, I can make a braid that goes all the way around the head and that’s perfectly fine. Anything shorter and I’d have to put it up in a flat bun in the back and that can actually be uncomfortable if you don’t get it exactly right.”

“Is it true that all women on Mandalore used to have long hair?” I wonder.

“I don’t know if it was all of them,” Ida answers, “but it used to be more common at least. If you look at older pictures, like several hundred years ago, you often see women with two long braids on each side. They just put the helmet over it, letting the braids hang out on either side. Only thing is, like that, you can’t seal the helmet, which is most likely one of the reasons why that style went away over time.

“Well, actually, not completely,” she adds as an afterthought. “There are clans that interpret the _Resol’nare_ in very strict ways, never taking off their armor in front of anyone, especially not their helmet. There are a handful of clans like that on Cheravh, where I was born. Their women sometimes still wear their hair that way. It’s the only indication you ever get as to what that person might look like.”

“They never take their helmets off?” one of my distant cousins asks in disbelief.

“Never,” Ida confirms.

“Not even during…you know…”

Ida shakes her head. “Rumor has it not even then.”

Now Ruu shakes her head. “They miss out on half the fun, then.”

Ida shrugs and grins. Me and the other younger women redden visibly.

“Oh, come on girls,” Ruu says, grinning broadly. “None of you are that innocent.”

Ida chuckles. “Leave them be, Ruu. Talking about sex gets easier the older you get. At their age, it’s just embarrassing.”

Ruu shrugs. “Maybe,” she concedes. “Anyway, I’m as clean as I’m gonna get. Let’s give the guys a chance to shower, too, eh?”

“Let’s,” Ida agrees.

###

Half an hour later, and almost everyone is clean and dry and in the mess tent. We are sitting at a long table together with Ruu and Roland and some members of their families.

“Any news from your sister?” Roland asks _ba’vodu_.

Tobias shrugs. “They call in every few days. They are getting bored. Alanna is threatening to redecorate the stronghold.”

We laugh and chuckle. I can just imagine Aunt Alanna running around with a paint brush coloring walls, rearranging the furniture and getting rid of some things that have probably not been moved within the last three hundred years or so.

“Can’t they just do something about the siege?” one of the younger Loks asks.

“Sure, they could,” Ruu answers. “But why? It would most likely only lead to new attacks against the stronghold. Which would also mean that the Vizslas would concentrate their forces there, and not have them trying to get us out here. It wouldn’t serve our plan at all.”

“How are the Protectors holding up?” Roland inquires.

“Frustrated,” Gareth answers. “Sit and wait is not really Torrack’s style, and Karr and his men are itchy to take out their fighters and bomb the Vizslas into non-existence. They’ll get their chance, but it’s gonna be while.”

“And Naak?” someone else wants to know.

“Shields are holding,” _ba’vodu_ says with a shrug. “And they should. Those shields are designed to last through orbital bombardments, they should live through a few dozen grenades and things like that. The city is stocked pretty well, they should be fine even if the war on Kalevala lasts longer than a year.

“No,” he continues. “What I am more worried about at the farms, homesteads and small villages. They are relatively unprotected; it’s why we try to stay away from them, and so far, that has worked. But at one point, some Vizsla commander will focus on them, and then we’ll have to figure out what to do. And while some communities will be able to defend themselves, the New Mandalorian communities will most likely not. If they have warriors, they are few and far between.”

“But we can’t be everywhere. We can’t protect them all,” Roland says, heaving a sigh. “This war will have its fair share of casualties.”

Heads are nodded around the table, but no one comments.

“How are the other planets in the sector faring?” I asks, though I dread the answer.

“Depends,” _ba’vodu_ says. “_Manda’yaim_ is firmly in Vizsla’s hands for now. We receive intel from a few sources though, but it’s scarce. Vizsla has also taken control of Concordia, though he seems to leave the population largely alone. Our sources say his men are all over the place with ground-penetrating radar, looking for _beskar_ veins. If he wants to open additional mines, he’ll need the population for the work. And Concordia is _Manda’yaim_’s main source for produce. He’ll not cut that supply line. He won’t hold himself on the throne if he starves the capital’s population to death. Vorpa’ya is still fought over, with the traditionalists gaining ground every day. As hard as it sounds, that planet will be lost to us.”

“What about Ordo?” Fenn asks, his face neutral. But I can hear the worry in his voice.

“Ordo is under attack, but it could be worse. Lincoln is an experienced leader who has had to fend off several attacks on Ordo before. The clans on Ordo do not belong to any of the houses, and hence several houses have tried to conquer Ordo again and again over the course of the last couple of centuries. And none of them has ever managed. I am confident that Lincoln won’t break that streak. They’ve had less than fifty casualties so far.”

Fenn nods, looking relieved.

“As to the other planets,” Tobias continues. “it varies. Planets where clans from both houses have settled are heavily fought over, like Breshing for example. Or Cheravh.”

My eyes flicker to Ida, who looks worried, but smiles at Tobias when he places his hand on hers.

“Then there are planets like Draboon, who belong to other houses and are not yet part of this war at all. If Vizsla doesn’t attack them at one point, they might not be the victors when this is over, but they might be the winners,” Tobias keeps going. “Concord Dawn isn’t fought over, even though you have members of every single house living there. But they are a tight knit community and usually close ranks when anyone gets the stupid idea to attack them. I guess that happens when all families have at least one Protector as an ancestor. And the systems at the sector’s edge are not under attack for now. Gargon is as quiet and peaceful as it has been for the last few hundred years.”

I smile a small smile of thanks. It’s what I wanted to hear after all.

We all sit in silence for a few moments. Then Ruu breaks it unceremoniously with a yawn she can only half cover with her hand.

“Alright, that it,” she says. “I’m obviously beat. Time for bed, kids.”

“Yes, _buir_,” Roland says, grinning, earning him a smack on the back of his head from Ruu.

But everyone gets up none the less. We’re all tired, and the warm food the kitchen provided only adds to it.

“Briefing tomorrow?” Roland asks.

“Yes,” _ba’vodu_ confirms. “0800.”

“0900.”

“0830, final offer.”

“0830 it is, then.”

Ida shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

“Everyone, go to sleep,” she says. “Before I’ll make it a doctor’s order.”

###

I have placed my sleeping bag next to Fenn’s again, as I have done the last two nights, too. No one has commented on that so far.

Ida and Tobias have connected their sleeping bags and cuddle up together. I watch them in the dim light of the heating lamp. They fall asleep quickly, their faces relaxing and softening.

Gareth is out quickly, too, his soft snores filling the silence in the small room.

And Fenn and me? We lie awake for a while; we’re not talking, but I know he’s wondering how his grandmother is doing, like I am wondering where Satine is, and how Cal is faring on Gargon.

I feel Fenn’s fingers brush against mine after a while. After spending the last few nights fully armored, including gloves, the feel of skin on skin is almost startling. But it feels good, and I start to entwine my fingers with his.

For the first time, I feel just how warm his hand is. His thumb is grazing along the side of my hand in an absentminded motion, the touch so light and gentle it sends a shiver down my spine.

For a second, my mind runs wild, wondering how it would feel if we embraced as tightly as we did the night after the skirmish at the camp but without armor, and how it would feel if his warm hands grazed along more sensitive parts of my skin.

The thought is arousing, making the muscles in my abdomen tighten.

But I push those thoughts down. We are friends, and this small physical contact is for our mutual comfort, and for nothing else.

I take a deep breath and hear Fenn do the same.

But I am tired; very tired, actually. And so, I let the warmth of the heating lamp and of Fenn’s hand around mine pull me into sleep.

###

The briefing this morning is pleasantly short and consists mostly of groaning about the forecast for the next few days (rain…and oh right…MORE rain) and organizing sentinels and scout groups. If the area stays clear of Vizslas, Tobias is partial to go hunting while we have the chance.

Gareth, Fenn and I make up one of the first scout groups, and we set out shortly after the briefing. Our route leads us back down into the valley, and we follow the little stream for a while. It’s still pouring, and we walk as fast as we dare as not to miss any signs of enemy troops.

Gareth instructs us not to walk in the mud, but on the blanket of fallen leaves.

“You’ll leave footprints in the mud, thus enabling others to track you. Walk on the leaves if possible but avoid the undergrowth. Trampled down saplings and such can be overlooked but are obvious to experienced scouts. Better not risk it.”

We mostly walk in silence, none of us particularly chatty in this weather. After a while, Fenn speaks up, though.

“Gareth?”

“Mhm?”

“Why is it called the Valley of Stars?”

“Once in a while, on a clear night, you can see one of the galaxy’s spirals right above the valley. Thousands and thousands of stars against a faint white and purple mist. It is very beautiful.”

“Have you ever seen it?” I ask him.

“Yes, twice actually.”

“We’re not gonna get to see it, are we?” Fenn asks, a resigned sound to his voice, even through the modulator.

“No, I’m afraid not, kid,” Gareth answers. “Weather’s too bad for it. And I’d have to look at a star chart to find out when it’s above the valley next time.”

We keep walking in silence. After a while, a small stream joins the larger one, and we follow the small one, slowly looping back around toward the old outpost. The small stream is rather shallow, and we wade through the water, the armored boots keeping our feet mercifully dry.

Half an hour later, and we stop to rest next to a set of small pools, leaning against a large fallen tree.

“They’re steaming!” Fenn exclaims in a surprised voice, and Gareth laughs.

“Yes, they are. This area is very prone to smaller quakes; there are two tectonic plates here that occasionally rub against each other. As a result, magma is rather close to the surface. Not dangerous, but noticeable. These pools are fed by underground springs who run close to those magma veins. So, the water in the pools is warm.”

“How warm?” I ask.

“Like a bathtub.”

“You’ve ever been in one?” Fenn wants to know.

Gareth shrugs, but grins.

“You went skinny dipping, didn’t you?” Fenn accuses, grinning himself.

Gareth shrugs again. “As a youth, yes,” he answers truthfully. “As an adult, no. That would have been highly improper, given I was here with her Grace and the children.”

“You came here with _ba’buir_?” I want to know.

“Yes. The first time was late spring, just before your father turned ten. The last few days he’d spent on Kalevala, before your grandfather took Adonai with him to Sundari and all over sector.”

Gareth sighs, but continues. “As Tobias said, these woods were a sort of refuge. A place without expectations. Adonai was a smart kid; he knew the prize of ruling, and he knew he’d be the one to pay it. He wanted a last few days of freedom.”

“Those really were his last days of freedom, weren’t they?” I realize.

Looking back at it, at my childhood and adolescence…Father fulfilled his role as Duke of Mandalore; but there were no personal endeavors, no idle hours, and hardly any carefree moments. Ruling was a duty, not a privilege.

Gareth nods solemnly.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” he says, sounding almost grave. “But it was this understanding of ruling that allowed your family to keep the throne after defeating the Vizslas in the first place. The Vizslas ruled with an iron fist. They ruled, and everyone else served. Your family’s understanding is different. To rule is to serve the people.”

I nod, but don’t answer. I think about Dorian and Satine and the way they were before Mother died. Dorian had been very different back then; loud and full of laughter. A bit undisciplined. He had to grow up very quickly after Mother’s death, especially since Father was almost…unreachable…during that time. Without _ba’vodu_’s help, things might have gone sideways back then.

And Satine? She had always been the most disciplined of all of us. Always a tat more attentive, a bit quicker in her understanding, and a whole lot more diplomatic. She always understood ruling as the ultimate act of servitude. In a way, she is better suited to rule than Dorian alone would have ever been. I guess that is why Father and Tobias always wanted her to assist him. Satine’s wit and Dorian’s strength could have led Mandalore to even greater prosperity.

And now, should we win this war, it is Satine and I who have to find that balance. Now, it will have to be Satine’s wit and _my_ strength that will have to accomplish that.

“What prize will I have to pay one day to help Satine rule?” I wonder, only to realize too late that I said it out loud.

“I’m sorry,” I add quickly, looking down at my boots.

Gareth puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side.

“It’s alright, _ad’ika_,” he says. “It’s a justified question.”

“Is there an answer?”

“No. Only time will tell.”

“What prize did _ba’vodu_ have to pay?” I wonder.

Gareth inhales deeply, letting the air back out in a long sigh.

“That is not for me to tell, I’m afraid. But you will find the answer to that question if you keep reading the journals.”

I nod again, but don’t say anything else.

We stay there for a few more moments, with Gareth’s arm around my shoulder and me leaning against him. I inch my other hand over to where Fenn’s is resting on the tree bark, linking my pinky with his. It’s a small contact, and yet just as comforting as an embrace.

I close my eyes, listening to the sound of the wood around me, and pray to all the gods left that I may have yet a little more time before my bill comes due.

###

We reach the old outpost again by early afternoon and all I want to do is get out of my wet clothes. But before I can do that, Ruu sees us and motions for us to go into the command tent.

We enter the tent. Only Tobias and Ida are in here, talking to a man I would guess to be in his fifties via holo.

“Ah, Bo-Katan, come here,” Ida says, waving me over.

I take my helmet off and walk over to them.

“You’ve met before,” Ida says to me, “though I don’t think you remember. This is my oldest brother, Ansgar Rodarch.”

“My lord.”

“Lady Bo-Katan,” he says in a friendly voice, inclining his head.

Knowing who he is, it’s easy to see the resemblance between him and Ida. They share the same sparkling eyes and kind smile.

Lord Rodarch turns around; there seems to be some sort of commotion behind him, out of the range of the holo.

“_Bo’ika_,” Tobias says. “Do me a favor. Put your helmet back on and stand with Gareth and Fenn for a moment, alright?”

I frown but do as he asks. I have long learned that Tobias usually has good reasons.

Lord Rodarch motions for someone to come into the picture, as he walks out of it. When I see who it is, it takes all my willpower to remain where I am with my helmet on.

Satine walks into the picture, together with her two _Jetiise_. She looks tired, but otherwise fine. No, she looks better than fine, really. She’s standing straight, the look on her face determined. She’s wearing sturdy pants and a high-collared tunic, and her hair is pulled back into a flat bun at the base of her skull. Like the last time in her message to me, she looks more Mandalorian than she ever has in the last few years.

“Uncle Tobias, Aunt Ida,” she says, a small smile on her face. “It is good to see you.”

“And you,” Tobias says. “How are you?”

Satine shrugs. “As well as can be,” she answers. “We are constantly on the move, just as we had discussed. It is…tiring. But helpful.”

Tobias nods. “Yes. The chieftains I have spoken to were very impressed by you. It does truly help them to not feel left alone. Where will you go next?”

Satine looks over her shoulder at the older _Jetii_, and he addresses Tobias.

“Cheravh is heavily fought over,” the man says. “Staying here would only put her Grace at risk of being discovered. And we already have another set of bounty hunters on our trail. We will seek out a quieter planet next and lay low for a while. They either lose our trail or we’ll deal with them. We have something in mind, but I would prefer to not discuss this over the comm.”

Tobias nods. “Alright. I’d like to talk to her Grace alone for a moment.”

I watch the older _Jetii_ smile and bow, while the younger one visibly stiffens, his eyes flickering to Satine.

“Of course, my Lord,” the older one says. “Come on, Obi-Wan. Let’s give her Grace a few moments alone.”

“Yes, Master.”

The master bows, and his apprentice follows suit. The older one walks out of the frame, the younger one lingers for a second.

“Call if you need anything,” he says.

“I will. Thanks, Obi-Wan.”

Satine looks over her shoulder until she seems to be alone. Then she turns back to Uncle Tobias.

_Ba’vodu_ smiles up at her. “There is someone here who’d like to talk to you.”

He motions for Satine to turn around and I take my helmet off.

“Bo!” She starts to move forward, only to realize that we are lightyears away from each other.

“Stars, Bo, it is good to see you.”

“And you,” I say, my voice already thick with emotion.

“Come on,” Tobias cuts in. “Let’s give the girls some privacy.”

He motions for everyone else to follow him out of the tent. I smile at them and turn back to Satine as the tent flap falls closed again.

“How are you, Bo?” Satine asks, her voice gentle, but sad.

I shrug. “I’m alright.”

“Really?” Satine asks back, sounding unconvinced.

“I bit sleepless the last couple of nights, and it’s raining, so I’m constantly drenched, but apart from that? Yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Satine blinks at me. “Bo, you’re in a war. I’ve heard from several chieftains that you have been fighting! How can you be alright?”

Now it’s my turn to blink. “Satine, I’m a warrior. I trained to fight. You know this! Why are you this surprised?”

“You’re so young!”

“I’m eighteen!”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“Oh, so it’s alright for Cal and Laurea to get married this young and produce children and have the responsibility of raising them, but I can’t take up a blaster to defend my own home?”

“That is something completely different!”

“How? It’s a matter of choice. They chose that, and I chose this. We’re merely following the roads we were already on.”

I take a deep breath, making a conscious effort to calm down. “Why are we even arguing, Satine? We only have a few minutes.”

Satine takes her own deep breath and nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you. I’m your big sister, it’s what I do.”

“And I understand that,” I tell her. “I’m worrying about you, too.”

We smile tentatively at each other, the little argument already forgotten.

“I see you still have your Protectors with you,” Satine picks the conversation back up.

“Yes, Gareth and Fenn.”

“I see you’re on a first name basis.”

“Tell that to…what was that name? Obi-Wan?”

The blueish holo image lets you only discern colors to a certain degree, but I can see the blush on Satine’s cheeks.

“It’s just nice to have someone my own age around,” she says.

I nod. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Honestly, I do. So, I take it the _Jetiise_ are only half as bad as legends have it?”

“Well, at least these two are. They’re just people like you and me after all, with the addition of some extraordinary powers. But they are very mindful in using them. They are actually very mindful in everything they do. You know how Jedi are often painted as beings without any emotion? I find that to be a very wrong picture of them. I think their connection to the Force makes them very susceptible to emotions. As far as I understood from what they told me, unchecked emotions and force powers don’t mix well. Jedi are not devoid of them, but they learn to control them, so that they are not ruled by them.”

I make a non-committal noise. “Very different from us _Mando’ade_ then.”

“Perhaps so,” Satine admits. “But not without merit, I’d say. Maybe there is something to be learned there.”

Satine and I both sigh.

“Have you heard from Cal?” I ask her.

“No,” Satine shakes her head. “But no news is good news in this case.”

We are silent for a moment, both of us lost in our own thoughts for a while.

Before we can continue, _ba’vodu_ and Ida come back inside. Behind Satine, Ansgar Rodarch steps into the holo feed.

“Your Grace, my Lady,” he says. “I’m afraid your time is up. Our scouts have detected enemy movement close to the stronghold. Your Jedi protectors are eager to leave and not put you and your mission at risk, your Grace.”

Satine nods.

“Farewell, Bo,” she says, sounding close to tears. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

Satine lingers for half a moment, then nods and balls her fists, and walks away. Ansgar Rodarch’s eyes follow her until she seems to be gone. Then he turns back to us.

“Time is up, I am afraid. We better deal with whoever thinks they can approach the stronghold unnoticed. Ka’ash is getting antsy anyway. Might introduce our unexpected visitors to him.”

As if on cue, a large strill walks into the holo feed, its large tongue lolling, and its eyes fixed on its keeper.

Ida rolls her eyes. “Be careful, Ansgar,” she says. “And good hunting.”

Ansgar Rodarch smiles. “You, too, little sister. Tobias. My Lady. _Ret'urcye mhi_.”

“_Ret'urcye mhi, ori’vod_,” Ida answers. _Goodbye, big brother._

Ida and Ansgar smile at each other, then the holo feed is cut; the silence that follows heavy.

I feel strangely shaken by my talk with Satine; maybe even just by the fact that I saw her. I don’t know really.

I hear Ida let out a shaky breath, and watch Tobias pull her into a tight embrace.

“It’s alright, _cyar’ika_,” he whispers. “It’s alright.”

Ida nods, but lets her head rest against Tobias’s chest none the less. Then she extends her hand out to me.

“Come here, _ad’ika_,” she says.

I walk over to them and let _ba’vodu_ and Ida pull me into the hug.

###

After dinner, I have no desire to go to bed, though I am tired to the bone. I feel strangely empty, and the chattering and cluttering in the mess tent has given me a dull headache. So instead, I climb up to one of the upper levels of the outpost. They are partially caved in, but I don’t mind. I just want some quiet.

I aim at the part that is farthest from the courtyard but stop suddenly. I can hear music coming from that direction. Mandoviol, to be exact.

For a second, I think about turning around, but then my curiosity gets the better of me. After all, I have a vague idea who it could be.

I turn a corner and find Fenn sitting cross-legged against a wall, playing a well-known children’s tune on the borrowed instrument.

For a few moments, I just stand there and watch him play. It is as fascinating to me as on the night of my birthday. And there is that pull inside me again, like something is tucking at my heart, urging me to go over to him. But for now, I keep watching as he plays. The piece ends, but Fenn keeps sitting there like he’ll just start the next one any moment.

“You want to keep standing there, or sit down?” he asks, only then looking up at me.

I feel my cheeks warm, like I’ve been caught doing something improper, but Fenn’s face morphs into a friendly smile and he pats the floor next to him.

I huff out a small laugh and walk over. I sit down against the stone wall and draw me knees up. Fenn puts the Mandoviol down on his other side.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks.

I sigh, my mind still debating whether that’s a good idea. But my mouth is much faster than my brain.

“We argued,” I tell him. “We had like five fekking minutes, and we started out by arguing.”

Fenn nods. “What about? If you want to tell, that is…”

“I told her I’m doing alright, which she didn’t believe. She was mad because I take part in the fighting, despite my young age. I told her it was my choice, but…I don’t know…I don’t think she understands.”

“You two are very different,” Fenn answers. “As far as I could observe, you and your siblings never talked about your different views on warrior traditions versus pacifism. And you did not have to, necessarily. We lived in a world where both views could more or less easily co-exist. I think your sister ignored your predispositions in a way. Training and actually fighting are not the same thing, after all. But now, to see you thrive in an environment that is utterly foreign and inexplicable to her…”

“She’s worried.”

“I’d imagine so, yes. But as you said, you are worried about her, too. You worry because your sister might not defend herself if necessary, and she’s worried about you because you actively put yourself in dangerous situations. And I’d say you might both be right.”

I look up a Fenn, and he looks down at me, eyebrows raised. I sigh.

“Maybe,” I concede.

Fenn grins and shakes his head.

I lean my head back against the wall. It is very quiet up here, except for the never-ending sound of the rain outside. I close my eyes and enjoy the silence for a few moments.

“Do you mind if I keep playing?” Fenn asks quietly.

“No,” I shake my head. “I don’t.”

I keep my eyes closed and hear Fenn shuffle around a bit. And then I hear him play.

He picks a song I don’t know. It’s a bit slower, but still captivating; the melody seeming to be a mirror of my current emotions.

When Fenn is done, I ask him what the song is called.

“The Wandering Heart,” he tells me. “There are no lyrics to it, but the composer wrote that it is about the journey each of us is on. About finding our own way and our own place in life. Seemed fitting right now.”

I nod. “Yeah, sounds about right…”

After a few more moments of silence, I look up at Fenn again.

“Fenn?”

“Mhm?”

“I think I am ready for that lament now.”

There is a flicker of surprise, but then his face becomes serious. His bright blue eyes fix mine with an intense gaze. It’s like he is searching for something, like he can look into my very soul. It should scare me, but it doesn’t.

“Yes,” Fenn says after a moment. “I think you are.”

I relax against the wall again, and let my head drop to Fenn’s shoulder.

“Can you play like that?” I ask, afraid he’ll say no.

“Um, yeah, I can.”

I close my eyes again, listening to the sound of the Mandoviol and Fenn’s beautiful voice. After a while, tears start to run down my face, but I let them. I let myself be pulled deeper and deeper into the calm that seems to radiate off Fenn; his gentle and soothing voice like a balm on my soul. Until finally, I fall asleep.

###

_Udes jii, ner cyare,  
gar borari luubid ibi'tuur.  
Udes jii, ner cyare,  
gar werseo kemi be'chaaj._

_Cuyi shev'la, ner cyare,  
an miite sirbu.  
Cuyi shev’la, ner cyare,  
udes gar kov'nyn._

_Nuhoyi jii, ner cyare,  
gar vercopa rud gar.  
Nuhoyi jii, ner cyare,  
gebba gar sur'haaise bal dar‘tayli._

_Udes jii, ner cyare,  
gar werseo kemi be'chaaj.  
Udes jii, ver cyare,  
bal gar runi cuyi mav._

* * *

_Rest now, my love,  
the day’s work is done.  
Rest now, my love,  
and let all your troubles fade away._

_Quiet now, my love,  
for all words have been said,  
quiet now, my love,  
you can now rest your head._

_Sleep now, my love,  
let your dreams surround you.  
Sleep now, my love,  
close your eyes and let go._

_Rest not, my love,  
let your troubles fade away.  
Rest now, my love,  
and let your soul be free._

_###_

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_The Valley of Stars. Never before have I been this far way on foot from the stronghold. I was afraid that Alanna with her five years might not be willing to walk this far, but she did without any complains. She’s a smart kid, and I think she understands that this is the last time we’ll get to be with Adonai like this for a long time._

_Alanna was the one to voice what the boys and I may have thought but would never speak of. What would happen if we just didn’t go back? If we just stayed here? Of course, Gareth and I explained to her that it is not that simple, that we all have a duty to the people of Mandalore. And that we can’t walk away from that._

_But somewhere inside, I wish we could. I wish my children could grow up without the burden of ruling looming over their heads. There is a part of me that wants to take them and run; run as far away as we can and for us to make our own life in this galaxy. And if I am honest with myself, I want Gareth to run with us. After ten years, he is more of a father to my children than Argaeus._

_Despite the argument we had before Alanna was born, we have somehow found our way back to friendship and trust. And maybe to more. Though we both know that that cannot be. But it is there, in the small, quiet moments in between, never talked about and never openly acknowledged._

_How would it be if we were free to live like we wanted? To sit around the breakfast table together, send the children on their way to school with friends, to have an actual trade or occupation, and to fall into bed together in the evening? How would it be to spend the nights together? To be allowed to hold Gareth’s hand and kiss him and make love to him?_

_But all these thoughts are futile. It is a dream and can never be anything more. Adonai will leave for Manda’yaim with Argaeus, and Tobias, Alanna, and I will stay on Kalevala. And all I can do is to prepare Tobias and Alanna for the world and responsibilities they were born into as best as I can._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe not the best chapter I ever wrote, but actually a very important one for the story.
> 
> Also, I know the lyrics of the lament don't rhyme, neither in Mando'a nor in English. I've never been good at poetry, neither in writing it nor in interpreting it (I can list several teachers from fifth through thirteenth grade who can attest to that.). It's the content that serves a purpose here, whether it rhymes or not.


	16. A different approach (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting intel of the Vizsla base camp is a very cold and wet affair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would still be too long for a single chapter, so here is the first part of “A different approach”.

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_Adonai has been gone with Argaeus for three days now, and it was only last night that the truth of it finally and fully registered. I tried to sleep, I honestly did, but sleep wouldn’t come. All I felt was loss and worry, and after what felt like hours of tossing and turning, I finally got up._

_I checked on Tobias and Alanna, but those two were out cold, thankfully. So, I snuck down into the kitchen, found a bottle of tihaar, and tiptoed back to the library…only to run into Gareth. For a moment, I thought he might say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he came with me into the library and closed the door behind us._

_We didn’t say much last night; we passed the bottle back and forth until it was empty. I guess I now understand why there is no word for ‘drunk’ in Mando’a. Haryc b'aalyc, tired and emotional, is a very accurate description, really. I was tired, and I cried, and Gareth held me._

_In the end, we both fell asleep on the sofa. We woke up this morning with my head pillowed on Gareth’s chest and his arm wrapped around me. And for a few minutes, we indulged and stayed just like that. But then reality caught up with us again (Alanna was yelling “Buir!”, waking up half the stronghold), and we got up._

_In the past five years, Gareth and I tried to keep our distance. Argaeus and I have long given up on marital relations; it’s what we agreed on after Alanna’s birth. Divorce was never an option; I would lose the children, and I will not do that. And Argaeus would lose important allies. But we both agreed that we could seek out other partners if we were discrete about it. I know Argaeus has slept with other women. And I would lie if I said that I hadn’t used an opportunity or two while away on some state business. And I know Gareth has not been celibate in the more than ten years we’ve known each other._

_If it would just be attraction between Gareth and me, then maybe I’d consider it. If it would be purely physical. But it is not. I want something more with Gareth, but that ‘more’ is exactly what I cannot have. I cannot be married to the Mand’alor and have a relationship with my Protector in my husband’s home._

_No, Gareth and I will have to stay in the no man’s land where we are more than friends but less than lovers._

###

“Well, _fierfek_.” Fenn’s voice rumbles over the comm, accompanied by a frustrated sigh. “This is not going to be fun.”

“No, it won’t be,” I agree.

After almost a week of near constant rain, the weather has cleared again. It’s still overcast, but the rain has ceased. We’ve moved camp closer to the marshes and have started to stake out the Vizsla base camp.

Fenn and I make up a team again; back up in a tree observing the camp. But this time, it is much harder.

The wood ends abruptly here, giving way to the flat marshlands. It’s a mixture of deep blue pools and small gray lakes and grassy islands of all shapes and sizes. And right in the middle, on one of the larger islands, is the Vizsla base camp.

From what we are able to tell at this range, the camp could hold up to a hundred people and is heavily fortified. And the flat terrain makes it almost impossible to get any closer without being immediately detected. At least during broad daylight.

“Let’s wait until nightfall and then see if we can get any closer,” I say. “Until then, we observe their movements as best as we can. Maybe we can detect some sort of pattern in their behavior.”

“Do you think they might have some sort of proximity warning installed?” Fenn asks.

I shrug. “Maybe,” I concede. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Fenn and I both sigh and get comfortable. Well, as comfortable as you can get eight meters up in a tree.

_You could climb over to Fenn’s branch and lean against him. That would be comfortable_. I sigh inaudibly at my own thoughts. It’s been almost a week from when I fell asleep on Fenn’s shoulder while he sang the Concordian lament. I had woken up about two hours later with my head still on his shoulder. He, too, had fallen asleep, and his cheek was resting on my head.

I didn’t dare to move; I didn’t want to wake him up. And it felt…peaceful; my body and mind quiet and relaxed. It didn’t even surprise me. Fenn seems to have that effect on me. Around him, I can just _be_.

But inner calm is not the only effect Fenn has had on me. Over the past few days, I found myself wanting to seek out his hand or lean against him; not for comfort, but because it’s nice. Because it gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling, mixed with a small surge of excitement. And in quiet moments, the primal part of my brain ventures even further, wondering how it would feel to kiss him, or to not just hold hands, but have our hands explore the other’s body.

And I wonder if Fenn feels the same. I think that maybe he does. The way he sometimes looks at me…at first, I thought it’s just his eyes; now, I’m not so sure. But even if he does…I don’t know if that’s a path I want to follow, at least not right now. For now, our friendship is more important to me than some wayward physical needs. I can satisfy those myself, but I can’t substitute for the friendship.

###

Fenn and I spend the day mostly in comfortable silence, observing the base camp. There are people coming and going, always in small groups. Some seem to be scout groups, others leave and return with game from hunting. All rather regular activities that are carried out mostly during the day.

But there are also warriors that guard the camp itself, walking around the perimeter and observing the marshes.

“You think they have sentinels further out?” Fenn asks after a long stretch of silence.

“Maybe, but not necessarily,” I answer. “Look at the people returning to camp. It takes them somewhere between fifteen to twenty minutes to get from the woods to the camp. Plenty of time for the guards to react should something be off. And if it serves as a sort of base camp, then it would be fairly normal if other Vizslas comm first before they come here unscheduled. Especially if they only come for supplies.”

Fenn makes an affirmative noise and nods his head. “Makes sense,” he agrees.

We keep watching the camp through our scopes and takes notes on everything we observe. We watch as a group settles in folding chairs at the edge of one of the smaller lakes and starts fishing.

“Great, now I get hungry for some fried fish,” Fenn mumbles under his breath.

I chuckle. “I’m sure there is _gihaal_ somewhere in the rations packages.”

“Bah, no thanks. Only if it’s the last edible thing left before I starve.”

“I’m not sure,” I say, and Fenn snaps his head around to look at me. “I might forego it even then.”

I grin at Fenn, though he can’t see it behind my visor, but he chuckles.

“Ever had it?” he asks.

I nod and scrunch up my face at the memory.

“Unfortunately, yes. You?”

“Yeah, during basic training. After that, I made sure to…eh…_reconfigure_ my ration package whenever I got one.”

I laugh out loud. Good thing we’re on the short distance helmet comm, and no one on the outside can hear us. Otherwise, my small outburst could have easily been heard echoing through the forest.

“Anyway,” Fenn says. “Hungry is hungry. Dinner?”

“Sure.”

Good thing we have a camp with a kitchen again and don’t need to fall back on rations. This way, Fenn and I get to eat some smoked meat, flatbread with some sort of creamy cheese and berries.

It’s slowly getting darker while we eat, the sun setting behind the seemingly unbreakable cover of clouds.

“Let’s climb down while we still see something,” Fenn suggests. “None of their scouts have passed this way so far. I think we can risk looking for a hideout on the ground.”

“Sounds good to me,” I answer.

We pack up and slowly climb down. We walk along the edge of the wood toward the east and find a nice set of bushes and fallen trees that will work well as a hideout for the two of us.

We settle down on our stomachs next to each other, peering through the foliage with our scopes. The group of fishermen seems to have returned to camp, but the warriors walking the perimeter are still there.

In the twilight, I can see several thin pillars of smoke rising from the camp, most likely from smaller fires. The days are already rather warm, but the nights are still a bit chilly.

“Any idea how we are going to get closer?” Fenn asks.

“No, not yet. Those guards look rather attentive, I’m afraid.”

After a while, it gets too dark for the scope alone.

“Ugh, night vision is a bust at this distance,” Fenn states. “I’m switching over to heat sensors.”

Fenn sighs and takes down his scope. “Well, this is…oh!”

“What?”

“Turn on your heat sensors and take a look without the scope.”

I do as he says.

“Oh!” I say, just as surprised.

The heat sensors are of little to no use where the camp is concerned, but everything around it, well, that’s something else. With the help of the heat sensors, we can see that the marshes are teeming with life. The grass and pools are all dark blue and black, but the grass islands are dotted over and over with the yellow and red of life forms moving around.

“I haven’t seen any animals except birds all day,” I say.

“Me neither,” Fenn says. “Probably nocturnal mammals and such.”

An idea starts to form in my mind.

“Where there are nocturnal mammals, there are usually nocturnal predators of some sort.”

“Probably,” Fenn agrees. “What are you thinking.”

“If the predators are large enough, we might be able to move around at the same time without drawing the guards’ attention to us.”

Fenn is quiet for a moment. “Could work,” he says after a while. “Let’s see what goes hunting in the marshes at night.”

###

It takes almost another hour before the predators finally come out. At first, it’s night owls, sweeping soundlessly down out of the air to snatch their unexpecting prey right of the ground. Interesting to watch, but of no use to us.

A while after the owls are gone, we can observe other animals emerging from the woods into the open of the marches, some of them about as the same size as a human on all fours. I follow a set of three animals like that, only to watch them disappear in the middle of nowhere.

“_Haar’chak_, where did they go?” I ask.

“I think they are in one of the pools,” Fenn answers. “I just followed a pair and they disappeared for a moment, and then two smaller forms appeared again. I think they have only their heads above the water.”

I keep watching where the three animals disappeared, and yes, now there are three smaller forms glowing red and yellow on my HUD. They seem to stay in the water, moving around, their heat signatures sometimes disappearing for a few seconds.

“Are they fishing?” I wonder.

“I think so,” Fenn answers.

We keep observing the creatures – whatever they are – for another two hours. After that, they all disappear back into the woods. We wait for another hour, but nothing else happens.

I sigh. “Well, that’s not helpful.”

“I disagree,” Fenn says. “It’s actually rather ideal. The creatures move around a lot with their heads above the water and they stay there for a long time. And a lot of the pools seem to be interconnected. Some of those creatures came very close to the camp. Much closer than we would need to be.”

Come to think of it… “You might be right.”

“Let’s hope so,” Fenn says. “I have no idea how else we are supposed to get closer without the guards immediately detecting us.”

“Alright,” I say. “Let’s head back then and talk to _ba’vodu_ and the others. I don’t think there is anything else happening here tonight and another scout team should be out here within the next three hours anyway. I think it’s safe to assume that the camp will stay right there until they get here.”

###

“Ah, bilgers,” Roland says, and laughs. “Those are nocturnal fish eaters, alright.”

“Bilgers?” Fenn asks.

“Yeah, there about as large as a strill, only uglier,” Roland continues. “Brown fur, sharp little teeth, and webbed feet.”

“Well, ugly or not,” Ruu chimes in, “what you observed is their natural behavior. If the guards did nothing about them, then they seem to be used to it by now. From everything I’ve seen and heard so far, that sounds like the best idea to get closer to the camp for more intel.”

_Ba’vodu_ nods. “And we need more intel,” he says, his green eyes fixed on the holo projection of the marshes and the base camp. “We still know too little about the camp.”

“It would be nice it we could look inside it,” Roland says. “But I know that that’s wishful thinking.”

“One problem at a time,” Gareth says. “If we manage to get closer, a combination of heat sensors, night vision and that listening device from that Itera kid could give us a much better idea of what and who we are dealing with.”

“We are dealing with Vizslas,” Roland says, obviously trying to rile Gareth a little.

“Thank you for that astounding insight,” Gareth returns deadpan.

“Boys,” Ruu says, her tone holding a clear warning to not overstep.

Gareth and Roland shut up and mumble some apologies. I suppress a grin and see Fenn do the same.

“As it is,” _ba’vodu_ says, picking the briefing back up, “I agree with Ruu. It seems like our best shot at getting more intel.”

He looks over to Fenn and me. “I take it you two want to be the ones to try it?”

Fenn and I look at each other for a second, then we nod.

“Alright,” Tobias says. “Get some sleep first. We’ll see what kind of equipment you’ll need after that.”

###

“Well, good thing it’s summer,” Ida says, frowning at the boxes inside the supply tent. “Because I don’t think we brought any wetsuits with us.”

“Do we need any?” Fenn asks.

“I guess the water will only have up to eighteen degrees, maybe. That’s not terribly cold, but it’s not warm either,” Ida answers.

“Great,” I huff out. “First the rain, and now we volunteered to climb into cold water pools.”

Ida shrugs. “Exactly, you volunteered. So, no complaining. Anyway…”

She starts rummaging through different boxed, now and then throwing stuff at Fenn and me.

“Towels, obviously…ah, here, breathers. The bilgers dive periodically after all, so you’ll need to do that, too. Let’s see, what else? … Oh, nice! Catch!”

Ida throws something over her shoulder, and I catch it. It looks like two range finders.

“We have range finders on our helmets,” I say.

“I know,” Ida answers. “But you can’t wear your helmet. Or your armor, for that matter. The heat signature wouldn’t match.”

Fenn and I look at each other. Great.

“And this isn’t a range finder. It more like an HUD,” Ida continues. “It’ll collect the data.”

She keeps looking around in different crates and boxes.

“This is also pretty handy where water is concerned,” she says, handing me a strangely squishy wrist comm. “It’s a holoprojector of Mon Calamari design, so it works perfectly underwater. The marshlands are mapped fairly well, and this way, you can pick a path through the interconnected pools that will allow you to get close enough without you having to memorize the path beforehand. You can just dive and take a look.”

“That’s neat,” I say, and Fenn leans over to get a closer look, too.

“Let’s see if I can find something waterproof for the listening device. You might have to set that up in the grass though. I don’t think it was designed to get wet.”

Ida rummages around some more, while Fenn and I try to divide everything between us to carry. She hands us a waterproof bag for the listening device.

“Pack spare underwear,” she says. “Unless you want to go skinny dipping?”

She raises her eyebrows, and feel my face become hot as my cheeks flush what I presume to be a very, very deep shade of red, while Fenn almost drops the listening device on the floor.

###

Five hours later, and Fenn and I are back in the small hideout behind the fallen trees and bushes. We lie there, waiting for the owls to finish and for the bilgers to come out.

I hear Fenn sigh over the comm.

“The water temperature reads eighteen degrees,” he says.

I shiver involuntarily. “Yeah well,” I answer. “Ida was right though. It was our idea; only fair that we’re the ones to freeze our _shebse_ off.”

“Yeah, I know.”

We keep looking at the marshes with the heat sensors, watching as one owl after the other dives down and picks up one of the smaller patches of heat.

“What kind of fish do you think are in those pools?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Fenn answers. “But if they don’t eat the bilgers, I’m pretty sure they won’t eat us.”

I nod.

“You don’t like fish.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“I like fish fine. To eat. Living fish…I try to avoid.”

Fenn chuckles.

“It’s not funny,” I say.

“Sorry,” Fenn answers, but I can still hear the smile.

After a while, he says “Spiders.”

“What?”

“I don’t like spiders. No matter the size, I hate them all.”

“You’re in a wood.”

“Precisely.”

“Oh.” I look at the dark blue pools. “I’ll deal with the fish I’ll guess.”

“Yes, you will.”

I take a deep breath and look back out toward the camp.

“Time’s almost up,” Fenn says after a while. “I guess we should get ready.”

“Right.”

Slowly and carefully, we start to detach our armor, and shed the sturdy shirts and pants. I take a deep breath before I remove the compression suit.

I’m still wearing my helmet and for a moment, I let my eyes flicker over to Fenn. The HUD is still on heat sensors, and I can only see his general outline, filled with red and orange. Well, mostly red.

I switch off the heat sensor, letting my eyes adjust to the relative darkness before I take the helmet off. I put the holo projector on my wrist and put the strange, portable HUD on my head, pulling it down to get a feeling for it.

Night vision seems to kick in automatically, highlighting everything in shades of grey, but only for my right eye.

“Ugh, this will take some getting used to,” I whisper.

“Yeah,” Fenn whispers back. “But it’s effective. It seems to emit almost no light of its own.”

I watch Fenn pull his HUD up and then back down and look at me, then move his hand, pointing at my head.

“You want to take the headband of?”

I nod. “Oh, yeah, thanks.”

I take the headband off, placing it under the rest of my armor.

Fenn and I go back to watching the marshes, waiting von the bilgers to come out. I thank the stars that the weather has stabilized, and that the air is still quite warm at this hour. Otherwise, we’d already be freezing.

I’m trying to ignore the fact that Fenn is right next to me wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. That if I would move only a few centimeters to the left, I would bump into him, skin against skin.

But before I can do something rash, irrational, and stupid, I am saved by the first few bilgers emerging from the forest.

“Well,” Fenn says. “Here goes nothing.”

We slowly start to crawl out of our hideout and make for one of the pools closest to us. A check of the map had shown that this is one of the interconnected pools, allowing us to get close enough to the camp to get audio feed over the listening device and hopefully some more detailed scans of the structure.

“You know,” Fenn whispers next to me, “one day, this will make an incredibly funny story, where we can convince people that crawling around in the mud in our underwear was essential to win this war.”

I suppress a snort, but only half successfully. “Yes, but let’s not talk about it for like the next ten years or so, alright?”

“Let’s do twenty just to be sure.”

I snicker a little but shut up again when we reach the pool.

The bilgers seems to dive in headfirst, so there is nothing else we can do but to mimic them. Fenn and I put the breathers in our mouths and carefully slip into the pool.

_Fierfek, this is fekking cold!_ I quickly come up with my head, trying not to gasp to loudly. Next to me, Fenn is breathing heavily.

“Let’s go,” I whisper. “At least moving will help us get warmer.”

We start swimming from pool to pool. Sometimes the connecting streams are so narrow that we have to squeeze through, with roots scratching our skin and mud sticking to every part of our bodies.

It takes us about ten minutes until we’re close enough to the camp to begin our scans and recordings.

First, we scan the structure again, getting way better results then we have so far. There seems to be a larger central space with tents of different shapes and sizes around it in three rings. Heat signatures suggest that our estimate of roughly a hundred people seems to be correct.

I sigh. “That’s a lot of people,” I whisper.

“Yeah,” Fenn agrees. “Let’s see what they are talking about, shall we?”

He extracts the listening device from its waterproof bag and places it on the grass at the edge of the pool we’re in.

Most of what we hear over the ear pieces are ordinary conversations; someone is whistling, two people seem to be cleaning their blasters, talking about some new WESTAR on the market, a group of people playing a round of sabbac. Once or twice, we hear other nightly activities, quickly readjusting the listening device to the next group of tents. And then…

“…able to make contact with Commander Khez?”

“No, my lord. The camp at the meeting point was abandoned. We are now approaching the coordinates of the Kryze camp Khez sent before he attacked. It’s hard to tell if anyone was in these woods. The rain washed away all tracks.”

There is silence for a few minutes, then:

“My lord?”

“What?”

“My lord…Commander Khez and his men are dead.”

“Come again?”

“Khez and his men are dead. There are remains of a camp here, my lord. Burned down tents and such, evidence of fighting. And what I would estimate to be about seventy graves, my lord. Helmets are on top of them. Most of them from clans of House Vizsla, including that of Commander Khez.”

“_Fierfek._ How could that have happened? Khez was experienced, and he was sure he had more men.”

“I can’t tell you, my lord. As I said, the rain has washed away most of the evidence. We’ll have to wait until daylight to get a better idea of what might have happened. But my best guess is that there were more Kryze warriors than Khez accounted for. Someone dug seventy graves, my lord. You don’t to that with a handful of survivors.”

“No, you don’t.” The man sighs. “Well, at least the Kryzes were honorable enough to bury all the dead. It doesn’t surprise me, though. I remember when Clan Bregg attacked the Rodarchs and the Duke sent his brother to deal with it.”

“Clan Bregg no longer exists.”

“No, they don’t. But I was there for the negotiations that followed their defeat. The disputed land went to the Rodarchs. We were allowed to take in the children of Clan Bregg as foundlings, raising them with the tribe. Tobias Kryze might me a dangerous man, but he is honorable. Be that as it may, _alor’ad_. Rest and wait for the sunrise, then gather what data you can and return to base. We might have to rethink our strategy.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The comm signal goes dead then, and I look over at Fenn.

“They’re from Cheravh,” I whisper.

“Yes,” Fenn agrees. “Maybe your aunt can shed a light on who they might be. And the commander seems to have met your uncle.”

“Let’s head back then.”

We make our way back through the pools. My body is half numb by now, and I am freezing. I swim in front of Fenn, occasionally diving and looking at the holo map under water to pick the right way.

As we reach the last pool, a bilger comes up out of the water right in front of me. I gasp and move backward out of instinct, bumping into Fenn. Through the HUDs night vision, I can see the bilger baring his little pointed teeth at me, hissing, but then think better of it. It turns around, climbs out of the pool and disappears into the woods.

I let out a shaky breath.

“You alright?” Fenn asks, his voice right next to my ear, but warbled by the breather.

It’s only now that I register that my back is pressed against his front, one of his arms around my middle, holding me against him.

I nod. “Yeah, that thing just surprised me, is all.”

“Yeah,” Fenn agrees. “Those things really are uglier than a strill.”

I huff out a laugh. “Definitely.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Fenn whispers, and lets go off me.

We crawl out of the pool and back into our hideout. Fenn pulls the towels out of one of the backpacks and hands me one.

“Ugh, we’re all muddy,” I say. “I wish there was more light.”

“Yeah. Let’s just get dry as best as we can, get dressed and get back to camp. Intel first, shower later.”

We turn around to change into dry underwear. I know Fenn would never turn around and look, and yet, I am somewhat nervous. Not the embarrassed kind of nervous, but the excited kind. _I _want to turn around and take a peek. I don’t of course, but still…

When I’m done, I put my headband and my helmet back on and turn on the night vision. An HUD for both eyes is much more comfortable than the portable one.

We finish putting our armor back on, pack everything up, and disappear into the night.

###

_Ba’vodu_ and Aunt Ida have a concentrated look on their faces as they listen to the audio feed and study the scans from the Vizsla base camp. Gareth, Ruu and Roland look just as focused.

“Do you know who they are?” Ruu asks, after the feed ends.

“Yes,” Ida says. “I think it’s Lord Bax, head of the Tribe on Cheravh.”

“Tribe?” Roland asks.

“Yes,” Ida answers. “The clans that follow what they call _The Way_; a very strict interpretation of the _Resol’nare_. Their society is structured a bit differently than the rest of Mandalore. The clans following the Way make up a tribe, a sort of larger _aliit_. It was only after the Vizslas got the Dark Sabre back from the Jedi temple and united the _Mando’ade_ under one banner again that the Tribe was more or less integrated into House Vizsla.”

“More or less?” Fenn asks.

Ida shrugs. “I don’t think they really had a choice. They are often seen as odd, even by traditionalists. The Tribe and the Vizslas leave each other largely alone. But the Tribe kept its fealty to House Vizsla even after the end of Vizsla rule. They are dwindling in numbers and belonging to a large house does offer protection.”

“Were they involved at the attacks on your clan on Cheravh?” Ruu asks.

“No. As I said, they kept their fealty, but usually do things their own way. It’s why they were allowed to raise the children of Clan Bregg as their own.”

“You think you could talk to that Lord Bax?” Gareth asks Ida.

Ida contemplates the question for a few moments.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” she answers with a shrug. “My clan never really had problems with the Tribe, but we don’t have dealings with them, either. They leave us alone and hence we leave them alone. I think it might be one of the reasons they’re here on Kalevala instead of Cheravh. I don’t think they are interested in fighting their neighbors. But I think they will honor their fealty to the Vizslas. As I said, they adhere strictly to the _Resol’nare_, and…and we are helping a young woman on the throne who is a staunch pacifist. I don’t think we can convince them to come to our side. It would go very much against their believes.”

Heads are nodded around the tactical station.

“But,” Aunt Ida continues, “their strict adherence to the Way might be to our advantage.”

“How so?” Ruu asks.

“Remember our little chat in the shower?”

Ruu and I nod.

“Good, and now look at the sensor data Bo and Fenn collected.”

We study he different data sets. Some of them are thermal scans of the movements inside the camp.

“Their heads are all greenish blue. They’re all wearing helmets,” I finally say.

“Exactly,” Ida confirms. “They don’t take them off in front of others. Ever.”

_Ba’vodu_ now has that excited look on his face he gets when he goes hunting. The yellow in his eyes becomes dominant, giving off an eerie glow in the light of the holo projection.

“We need more intel about the internal workings of the camp,” he says. “But once we have that, we could ambush one of their scout groups, put on their armor, and walk right in the front door with no one the wiser.”

Heads are nodded again.

“There is just one problem,” Ruu interjects. “So far, we can only gather intel at night. How are we going to get the information we need? Exchanging their guys for ours and then moving around in their camp, interacting with people…you would need to study the people you’d want to replace. How are we going to do that?”

“Thermal marker,” Gareth answer. “Pick a scout group and mark them. That way we could identify them within the camp and listen in to their conversations. Not ideal, but workable.”

“How to you tag them with a marker without them noticing?” Fenn want to know.

“There are different kinds of thermal markers,” Gareth explains. “Some are powdery. It would be enough for them to walk through it.”

“Until they clean their boots,” Roland objects.

“No, that’s the trick,” Gareth goes on. “It sticks to _beskar_. Would stick to armored boots just fine. And if you clean them, you just rub the marker in. It takes several days for that stuff to come back off.”

The conversation goes around a bit after that. Everyone’s excited at the prospect of a way to get into the base camp unnoticed. The _how_ is debated for several more minutes, but in the end, we agree to try Gareth’s idea. If it doesn’t work, we can still try to think of something else.

More scout groups are assigned to gather as much data about the camp as possible; all in the same way Fenn and I gathered our data tonight. Fenn and I are assigned to go another round in three days. We both suppress a groan.

###

It’s early morning before Fenn and I finally collapse on our sleeping bags. We showered and put on our training gear. Everything else needs a thorough round in the laundry.

It takes a while until I find a half-way comfortable position. The little cuts and scratches form the roots sticking out into the pools bugging me no matter which way I turn. I decide to lie on my side with my back to Fenn.

I am tired and exhausted, but I don’t fall asleep immediately. This happens sometimes when I am too tired.

Behind me, I hear Fenn’s breathing evening out, becoming slow and shallow. I listen to the sound of him breathing for a while. Fenn moves suddenly, probably dreaming. I hear him turn, and then suddenly, his arm is around my middle.

I freeze for a moment, undecided of what I should do. Fenn only comes closer, tightening his hold on me, burying his nose in my hair. He makes a soft sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

My body’s reaction is immediate and uncontrollable. My heart is pounding and the muscles in my abdomen are tightening, that hot and pinching feeling of need starting at my clit and radiating outward through my whole body.

And for a few moments, my brain relinquishes the control over my body to my hormones, and I press closer to Fenn, enjoying the warmth radiating off him and the feel of his body against mine. And like this, warm and content, I fall asleep in Fenn Rau’s arms.

###

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_Tobias has a crush. Stars, it’s so cute and embarrassing to watch._

_We’re visiting Adonai and Argaeus in Sundari, and Argaeus has allies from Vorpa’ya staying here for trade negotiations. And boy, has Elia Jennis turned poor Tob’ika’s head._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading! I have a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you keep having a good time reading :-)
> 
> **Mando'a translations**
> 
> _Haryc b'aalyc_ \- tired and emotional (euphemism for drunk)  
_gihaal_ \- fishmeal (see wookiepadia for details)  
_haar'chak_ \- Damn it!  
_alor'ad_ \- captain  
_aliit_ \- clan, tribe, family  
_resol'nare_ \- The six tenets of Mandalorian life


	17. A different approach (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobias and Ida go undercover, Bo and Fenn come up with a plan to take out the Vizsla base camp, the group gets a special delivery, P for plenty, only flying is better, and Tobias proves that his sister isn’t the only one handy with a brush and some paint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the second part of “A different approach”. This chapter switches between Bo’s and Ida’s POV.

** _From the journal of Tobias Kryze_ **

_Father is angry with buir. They were having words for almost an hour in Father’s study. And for what? For buir showing us that tunnel?_

_I mean, it’s a damn cool tunnel. Apparently, it’s a secret passageway to leave the castle undetected should anything happen and the people inside are threatened. Which is pretty clever all things considered._

_Adonai, Alanna and I would probably have left it at that, hadn’t we listened at the door and overheard Father mentioning that we could use the tunnel to sneak out right under our parents’ noses and visit the underground lake._

_I mean, there is an underground lake? How awesome is that?!_

_Naturally, we were more than intrigued. Alanna wanted to go right then and there, but Adonai and I convinced her to be smarter about it. First, we must give Father a false sense of security, convincing him that we don’t care about a door hidden behind a bookshelf. Again, who cool is that?!_

_And even then, we must be careful, sneaky and above all: we must never tell anyone about it. Ever._

###

**Bo-Katan**

After another week of several scout groups being wet and miserable in the marshes at night, including two more rounds for Fenn and me, we have enough intel to exchange some of their scouts for ours.

The choice itself was easy. One of the Vizsla scout groups that sets out every single day is a group of two; a man and a woman. A married couple who spend their free time mostly with each other. They get around camp a lot, but without having any prolonged conversations with the other warriors.

The discussion on who should take their places, however, was a completely different matter. There were _too many_ people to volunteer, finding it terribly exciting to go undercover. All of them bombarding _ba’vodu_ and the rest of us with arguments why they would be the best for this mission.

A lot of the volunteers were younger, looking for a chance to make their mark and to prove themselves. The discussion got rather heated at times.

In the end, it was Ruu who pointed out what no one else seemed to be willing to see.

“I’ve heard plenty of arguments by now,” she had said, sounding exhausted and annoyed. “But all of you overlook something with the woman; call it a fashion statement if you want.”

People had looked at the holo someone managed to take of the couple, but only shrugged. But I had thought back to the conversation us girls had in the shower, and I had finally noticed.

“She’s got long hair,” I had said. “Long braids that hang out from under her helmet.”

“Exactly,” Ruu had confirmed. “So, unless all you girls manage to grow your hair out real quick, there is only one person in this camp who can impersonate that woman without having to explain to a hundred people why she obviously decided to cut her hair.”

All eyes had suddenly gone to Aunt Ida, who could do nothing else but grimace.

“If Ida goes, I go,” Tobias had said, his tone final, but naturally bringing on another long debate.

But in the end, we all came around to agree that unless we wanted to pick other Vizslas, Ida and Tobias would have the best chance to go unnoticed. They have the right age, the right build, in Ida’s case the right hair, and Ida’s _Mando’a_ has the right inflictions for someone from Cheravh.

###

**Ida**

I remember my father saying that war and morality do not always go hand in hand. That sometimes, we sacrifice honor for the sake of victory.

There is no honor in the death of the two warriors whose place Tobias and I will take. Neither for them, nor for us. But it is not their fault, and so I hope that their souls will still find rest and glory in the _Manda_. I don’t know if anyone will say their names in their daily remembrance, so I will at least include them tonight.

And I should. I came up with a way to kill them without leaving a mark on their armor or their other clothing after all. Sometimes I wonder at the paradox of being a doctor and a warrior. To save a life with the one hand while I take one with the other. Just as I did with these two.

I kneel next to the woman and pluck the small dart from her neck. Though their deaths were not honorable, they were at least painless.

But my moral perils will have to wait. Time is pressing; Tobias and I must remain on schedule as to not alert the guards at the base camp. So, Tobias and I strip the two off their armor. Slipping into their shirts and pants and attaching the armor plates…it makes me feel for Gareth and Fenn when we asked them to take off their protectoral armor and to wear new one. Wearing someone else’s armor always feels wrong; wearing these ones even more so.

Before I take off the woman’s helmet, I silently ask her forgiveness. Though she’s no longer alive, it still feels strangely inappropriate to remove it. After all, she most likely hasn’t shown her face to anyone since she was seven.

The face that appears looks peaceful, despite the open eyes. Tough her hair color is almost identical with mine, the rest of her looks strikingly different. She has brown eyes; her face all sharp planes and angles.

I look over to her husband. He has brown hair and blue eyes; his clean-shaven face looks friendly even in death.

I wonder if they ever got weak; if they ever removed their helmets in front of each other and just never told anyone. I doubt it, but I wonder none the less. No matter how open I try to be toward their believes, it’s a way of life that will forever remain utterly foreign to me. A way of life I now have to adjust to quickly and follow for the better part of the next few days.

Gareth has come with us; he will bury the two and carry our own armor back to camp. For now, he has stayed back, given Tobias and me time to change. But now he comes over to us.

He holds his hand out and helps me up.

“You alright, _ad’ika_?” he asks. The look in his eyes is compassionate, not pitiful, and I am very thankful for that.

“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “The thought that we are the first ones to see their faces in more than thirty years is a bit…disturbing.”

Gareth nods and squeezes my hand.

I’ve never met Tobias’s biological father; Lord Argaeus had died almost a decade before we even met. But the more I get to see of Gareth, the more I realize that he truly _is_ Tobias’s father in all but name. Tobias might have inherited his father’s height and that bloody strait Kryze nose, but everything else he has either inherited from his mother or picked up from Gareth. It’s most obvious when I see Gareth act toward Tobias or me like Tobias acts toward Bo. _Aliit ori’shya tal’din._

I sigh and get ready to put the helmet on.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tobias says and walks over to me, reaching out with his hand to stop me from putting it over my head.

He leans down and kisses me; a series of small, gentle kisses that still make my knees go weak after ten years of marriage. I almost whine when he pulls away again. But he leans his forehead against mine for a moment and whispers “_Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum_”.

“_Bal ni gar_,” I whisper back. _And I you._

We move away from each other then, and Gareth gives me a hug.

“Watch him for me, _ad’ika_, yes?” he whispers into my ear, and I have to smile.

“I always do.”

I smile at Gareth and place a small peck on his cheek.

I make room for Tobias and watch as the two men press their foreheads together.

Before we put the helmets on, Gareth has a question for Tobias.

“Tobias?”

“Mm?”

“I take it you made no arrangements as to who is in command in your absence on purpose?”

Tobias shrugs and then grins.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Gareth answers, half a grin on his face, too. But then he sobers up.

“Good luck,” he says. “See you tomorrow around noon.”

Tobias and I both nod. Then we put the helmets on and turn to leave. The route is highlighted on the woman’s HUD, and we follow it back toward the Vizsla base camp.

###

**Bo-Katan**

It is early afternoon when Gareth finally returns to camp. He walks into the command tent where Ruu, Roland, Fenn and I are gathered around the tactical station, watching the two blue dots that are _ba’vodu_ and Aunt Ida slowly approach the base camp.

“How far are they?” Gareth inquires.

“Almost there,” Ruu says. “We’ll soon now if the plan will work.”

My whole body is taut while I watch the two dots cross the open marshes, the minutes seeming to stretch into hours. I hold my breath as they reach the entrance…and pass through without any delays.

I exhale slowly and notice everyone else do the same.

We watch as the two dots separate, each following the path the two Vizslas would normally take through the camp until half an hour later, they both arrive at their tent.

“Well, that went well so far,” Roland says. “I guess now comes the boring part.”

I nod. “I’m afraid so,” I answer. “Fenn and I are still on a nightly schedule from the last scouting trip. If it’s alright with you, I’d say that the two of us eat something while you keep an eye on the map. We’ll relieve you when we’re done.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ruu says. “When do you want one of us back here so you can sleep?”

“By 0300. That way Fenn and I get enough rest before the scouts are back with the data and audio feed from tonight.”

“Very well,” Ruu says. “_Haili cetare!_” _Eat your fill!_

Fenn and I nod and leave the tent.

We amble more than walk toward the mess tent, enjoying the few rays of sunshine that have made it through the clouds now in the early evening.

“Bo-Katan?”

“Mm?”

“Do you think the others really think that we wouldn’t notice that your uncle didn’t officially leave anyone in charge?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. But it feels like a test…”

“On how you’ll react?”

“Yes. And I haven’t really figured out how to handle it.”

Fenn stops for a moment, and so do I. I look up at him and see him smile.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, like it’s a fact. “Your uncle wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t think you’d be up to the task. And you can always ask for help. Gareth has a pretty good insight into people, and Ruu and Roland are experienced leaders. If you let them, I think they would all be willing to teach you a thing or two. It’s why I think this is less of a test and more of a lesson, really.”

I cock my head. I haven’t looked at it that way before now, but it sure sounds like _ba’vodu_.

“You know,” I tell Fenn, smiling up at him, “you have a pretty good inside into people, too.”

###

**Ida**

The camp has no mess tent; unsurprising, really, if you think about it. The members of the Tribe don’t take their helmets off in front of others. So, unless they want to slurp their liquid or mushed up rations through a feeding straw, they all have to eat alone.

The tent of the two scouts we now impersonate is one of the smaller ones inside the camp, but still roomy. There is a sort of common area with a table and two chairs and a small, foldable kitchen unit.

The rest of the tent is separated by some heavy curtains into two smaller rooms, each with a cot and some boxes for clothing and other things. And again, with a small table and a chair.

I look over my shoulder at Tobias, who is standing there, looking around.

“Are you alright?” I inquire.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” he asks. “The Tribe is a tight-knit community, and yet parts of their private lives seem very lonely.”

I smile, though Tobias can’t see it behind the visor.

“It is strange to _us_, love. If we had grown up like this, it would probably feel perfectly normal.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he concedes. “So, what’s for dinner?”

I shrug. “Let’s hope they are well stocked…”

I walk over to the small kitchen and check the cooling unit. We are in luck; it _is_ well stocked, and we won’t have to go hunt or forage for food for the next few days.

While Tobias is a much better hunter than I am, I am the better cook. Probably because Tobias had always lived in places where food was usually provided by others. But I had lived alone during my time at the university and had to do all the cooking myself. I can’t cook a five-course dinner, but I can put a decent meal on the table if I have to.

For a second, I eye the table in the common area, but it’s not worth the risk. So instead, Tobias and I take the plates to the smaller tables in the separated rooms.

In a way, Tobias was right. The way the Tribe goes about things is strange and foreign to us. But I do understand that growing up this way, it would all seem normal, and we would be the ones with an incomprehensible lifestyle.

And I understand that you can fall in love with someone without ever seeing their face. That someone’s character can be much more important than their looks. I’ve met enough people in my life where I thought ‘hot damn’ until they opened their mouth…

But what I can’t wrap my head around is the physicality of a relationship with those limitations. Like no kissing, never truly smelling the other, and the absence of eye contact during sex.

Tobias has very expressive eyes; even if he can school his features into a sea of impassiveness if necessary, his eyes will always give away his emotions to those who pay attention. The day I met Tobias, that very first time our eyes met…stars, I still remember how my stomach fluttered in that very moment. And I just knew. It was love at first sight.

###

**Bo-Katan**

Well, it truly is boring to watch the blue dots do basically nothing. _Ba’vodu_ and Aunt Ida move around in their tent, but nothing beyond that. At one point, the dots become completely stationary, indicating that at least one of them is sleeping while the other keeps watch.

I sigh and rub my face with my hands, focusing back on the _cu’bikad_ board that is displayed next to the holo of the camp. Well, let’s say I at least try to focus. I sigh, but it turns into a yawn.

“I have no idea what I am doing,” I admit to Fenn. “I hate the time between two and three in the night…”

Fenn chuckles and shrugs. “Makes two of us,” he says. “I don’t even remember if I have the red or the blue blades.”

Just as I am about to answer, the tent flap opens, and Gareth comes in. He looks at the board and then at us.

“Are you even playing by the rules?” he asks, looking at the board with a consternated expression.

Fenn and I just shrug. “Maybe?”

Gareth shakes his head, but his expression morphs into a good-natured smile.

“Time for bed, you two. I’ll wake you before the scouts are back.”

“Thanks, Gareth,” I say, smiling a tired smile at him. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Gareth,” Fenn adds, and we leave the tent, walking the few steps over to ours.

In our first camp, we had three tents; one for _ba’vodu_ and Ida, one for Fenn and Gareth, and one for me. But now, we don’t have that luxury anymore. Our tents have burned down, leaving us with what Ruu and Roland and their groups brought, resulting in everyone having to share. I don’t mind sharing the tent; I actually sleep much better with the others around me.

Inside, Fenn and I quickly shed our armor, stripping down all the way to our underwear and pulling something more comfortable on for the night. After a fortnight in close quarters, there is no shyness or embarrassment left.

We lie down on our sleeping bags without talking, ending up on our sides facing each other. I’m not sure if I can fall asleep, tired though as I am. Naturally, Fenn picks up on that again.

“They’ll be fine,” he says. “And we will figure out a way to take out that camp.”

I sigh and nod, but I still can’t relax.

“C’mere,” Fenn says, his voice sounding a bit nervous.

“What?”

“You know it helps,” he tries to explain, sounding even more anxious. “So, come here.”

I feel my heart beating frantically in my chest as I move closer. Not close enough for our bodies to touch, but close enough for Fenn to carefully put an arm around my middle, his hand lightly touching the small of my back.

I inhale deeply, letting the air out again very slowly. I do it again; this time inhaling the smell that is uniquely Fenn, and that I might recognize by now even with my eyes closed. The air comes back out with an involuntary but content sigh, and I feel Fenn’s fingers press into my back just a little stronger than before. And I might be smiling just a little at that.

“G’night, Fenn,” I mumble sleepily.

“Goodnight, Bo-Katan.”

I keep smiling – and maybe I do move just a little closer to him – and let the warmth of his body flood over me and close my eyes.

###

_I’m flying; flying over the marshes at night. And even though I am high up in the air, I can see everything as clear as day and razor sharp. My prey is unaware of me, going about their scurrying and whatnot. I pick one of those little critters, my focus completely on them, and I plunge down. Shortly before I hit the ground I slow down, spreading my wings and extending my claws, digging them into the unsuspecting rodent. I push off the ground again and everything is as if I was never there._

I wake with a start, sitting up on my sleeping bag as the first rays of sunlight filter through into the tent. Next to me, Fenn is sitting up just as quickly, a concerned look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I answer. “I need to talk to the others.”

I scramble up from the camping mats on the ground. “What time is it?”

“Early,” Fenn answers, getting up himself. “Bo-Katan, what’s going on?”

“I think I know how to take out the camp,” I tell him, while I start to get my stuff together. “But I’ll need Ruu’s and Roland’s connections to pull it off. And I need to think of a distraction for the Vizslas. What time is it again?”

“Still early,” Fenn repeats, and stops me from moving around by grabbing both my arms.

“Bo, stop,” he says, and the use of my abbreviated name stops me dead in my tracks. “Take a breath, collect your thoughts, and explain.”

“Right,” I say, forcing my mind to slow down and my nerves to calm.

I take a deep breath and explain: “We mimic the bilgers to stake out the camp and get closer, right? What if they’re not the only useful nightly creature we observed? What if we mimic the night owls to take out the camp?”

Fenn looks thoughtful for a moment, then his eyes snap up to meet mine.

###

Fenn was right, it is early. Ruu and Roland are not up yet, and so we take the chance to shower and eat breakfast. I notice people throwing us sideways glances; probably because Fenn and I have our heads close together, whispering and grinning as I explain the outline of my plan to Fenn, and it gives everybody a very wrong idea. I couldn’t care less right now.

“We need to cover the distance from the woods to the camp,” I say, wondering how to do it. “We cannot allow them time to prepare. We need a distraction.”

Fenn nods. “Yes,” he says, sounding excited. “And I think I know how.”

###

By 0830, everybody is back inside the command tent. Gareth looks like he could fall asleep standing, but he gets a curious look on his face when he notices Fenn’s and my giddy anticipation.

Ruu raises an eyebrow at us.

“Okay, kids, what are you two up to?” she asks.

I smirk at her. “How long would it take to acquire sixty jetpacks out here?”

###

**Ida**

Tobias and I leave the camp after breakfast, walking along the path shown on our HUDs. Once we’re out far enough from the camp, Tobias sends a set of encrypted coordinates to our own camp.

It’s shortly after midday when we reach the small clearing that we chose for the little rendezvous. We take our helmets off, inhaling the fresh air. I look up into the now almost clear sky, letting the sun tickle my nose.

A few moments later, and two other people enter the clearing. To our surprise, it’s Bo and Fenn.

They take their helmets off, and Bo walks over to us quickly, giving both of us a hug.

“Hey _Bo’ika_,” Tobias says, pressing a small kiss on top of her head. “Where’s Gareth?”

Bo smiles up at him. “Sleeping. We had to change the schedule a bit.”

Bo is still smiling; grinning, even. I look between her and Fenn, watching as they make eye contact a lot. Are they…? Did they…? Don’t tell me all it needed was for us to be out of camp for one night and an empty tent.

If Tobias notices anything different about them, he doesn’t show it. He’s already transferring our sensor data to Bo’s vambraces, including a detailed scan of the camp’s interior.

“Does the camp have an ammunitions depot?” Bo asks.

“Yes, right here,” Tobias says, pulling up a holo map of the camp and indicating a large tent close to the center.

Bo nods, and looks at Fenn again, still grinning. Now, even Tobias realizes something is up.

“_Adike?_” he asks. _Kids?_

“We think we figured out a way to take out the camp,” Fenn says.

“I’m listening,” Tobias says.

###

Tobias is studying the map of the camp, his face concentrated. Then his eyes go up to meet Bo’s. There is a look of excitement in them, mirroring Bo’s and Fenn’s obvious anticipation. But also a sort of fatherly pride.

“When?” he asks.

“Tomorrow night,” Fenn answers.

“That’s not a lot of time,” Tobias says.

“We know,” Bo agrees. “But from what we could gather from last night’s audio feed, Lord Bax and his captain are thinking about changing their strategy. They are debating whether it would make more sense to send smaller groups on longer trips and start to attack the villages and burn crops. Bax is still squeamish about it, but his captain is all for it. It might be only a matter of time before they resort to those measures. We want to take them out before they do.”

Tobias nods. “Yes, we should. As we already talked about, we can’t defend all the villages and homesteads, especially not the New Mandalorian ones.”

I nod, too. “I agree. We’ll see what we can do. We would need to get everything done by tomorrow morning and then leave. We’ll just have to come up with an excuse why we’re not back on schedule as to not cause suspicion. But we’ll think of something.”

“Thank you,” Bo says smiling at us, relief showing on her face.

We smile back. But the clock is ticking, and Tobias and I must keep to our schedule.

“As good as it is to see you, we really must be on our way,” I say. “Let’s not tip anyone off by being late before the real work even begins.”

Bo nods. “Right. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, _Bo’ika_,” Tobias says. “Fenn.”

“My Lord.”

Tobias and I put the helmets back on, and with a last wave toward Bo and Fenn, make our way back to the base camp.

###

**Bo-Katan**

The way back to camp is uneventful. It’s a nice day, actually; the sun is shining and there is a light and warm breeze despite the already late hour, finally hinting that summer is about to really begin.

Once we’re past the first line of sentinels, Fenn and I take our helmets off, enjoying the fresh, unfiltered air.

As we reach the camp, we can tell that something is up. We can hear excited voices, and everyone seems to have gathered in a tight circle in the camp’s central space.

Fenn and I intent to start squeezing our way through the crowd, but they move aside for us, giving us a clear view at what caused all the excitement in the first place.

And there, in the middle, are Ruu, Roland and Gareth, leaning against a large pile of crates, smug looks on their faces.

“Special delivery for one Lady Bo-Katan Kryze,” Ruu says, grinning.

Gareth and Roland proceed to open the hatch of one of the boxes. Gareth pulls something from it, then turns around with a broad and wicked grin and throws a jetpack over to me.

I look at it, inspecting it from different angles, weighing it. And then I look up at Gareth, my mouth pulling into a half grin.

I look around the gathered warriors then, their faces a mix of curiosity and anticipation, and all their eyes on me.

“_Ke tsikado! Nakar'tuur ca, mhi akaani sa ca’naare. Iviin'yc ba’kyramla; val dar’kar'tayli akay bic cuyi du'car. Oya!_” _Get ready! Tomorrow night, we will fight like the night owls. Swift and deadly; they will not know until it is too late. Let’s hunt!_

And suddenly, the entire camp echoes my last word. _Oya!_

###

**Ida**

I am tired. Neither Tobias nor I did get much rest last night. There were other things that needed to be done.

Now, Tobias and I are slowly moving through the camp toward the gates. I look around; at the people talking, laughing, going about their daily business. It’s times like these where I understand the New Mandalorians and their wish for peace. How prosperous could we be if we worked together toward a common future? But alas, it is not meant to be; at least not for now. I so hope that Satine and Bo can bring a balance to the different factions. I hope this is the last war we’ll have to fight against our own brothers and sisters during our lifetimes.

My parents raised me as a warrior. But being the middle child in a numerous family meant I had to find my own occupation, my own way to contribute to the clan’s welfare. Especially since I was sure as _haran_ not going to let myself be married off to some heir whose greatest achievement was to be born with the right family name. And I am no mercenary.

But I had always been curious, wanting to understand how things worked. Next to the training yard, you would find me with the mechanics in the hanger, or with the armorer…or with our stronghold’s physician. He piqued my interest in biology and chemistry, eventually encouraging me to consider becoming the next stronghold physician, as he said he would one day be too old to continue his work there.

And these two sides of me – the warrior and the healer – have always been slightly at odds with each other. And if I were asked to choose, to be one thing or the other, I cannot even tell which side I would pick.

###

Again, Tobias and I were able to leave the base camp without any problems. We keep following the route on our HUDs until the early afternoon. We’ve reached a rocky terrain; perfect for selling our excuse for not returning to camp.

I open a comm channel to the basecamp.

“Base, this is scout group eight, please come in.”

“Group eight, this is base.”

“Base, we’re being delayed. We’re in rocky terrain and Deck accidently stepped on a loose stone and lost his balance. It’s truly embarrassing, but he sprained his ankle.”

I hear an annoyed sigh on the other end of the comm.

“Do you need assistance?”

“Oh no, thank you. Nothing bacta couldn’t fix. But we will not make it back to camp before nightfall. It might be easier to stay our here for the night.”

Another sigh. “Are you equipped?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. I’ll notify the captain. Check in tomorrow at dawn. Base out.”

The connection goes dead.

“That was easy,” Tobias says, and I can hear the frown.

I shrug. “Yeah. But honestly, if one of our scout groups called that in, we’d probably react the same.”

“True.”

Tobias and I proceed to arrange the backpacks and bedrolls like we were truly spending the night here. We even build a fire, but don’t light it. We don’t accidently want to set the woods on fire by leaving the flames unattended.

“We should leave the helmets,” Tobias says. “I don’t put it past that captain to track us. This way, should he remotely activate the tracking beacon, it’ll look like we are exactly where we’re meant to be.”

I nod. Traversing the woods without the helmets’ HUDs is dangerous. But not as dangerous as that Vizsla captain finding out where we are going.

###

It’s already twilight when reach the meeting point; a small clearing about two hours out from the base camp. Our approach isn’t hindered, which tells me there are sentinels in the trees. They are hidden well; neither Tobias nor I managed to notice them without a visor.

Inside the clearing are about fifty fully armored warriors. Including jetpacks. It’s an impressive sight.

We walk over to Bo, Fenn, Gareth, Ruu, and Roland. I can feel the anticipation; that underlying buzz of excitement shortly before battle. The warriors I see look at ease, confident. They trust Bo’s plan.

Before we can exchange any words of greeting, Bo’s wrist comm crackles.

“This is advance, come in.”

“We hear you, advance,” Bo answers.

“Both squads in position. No unusual activities in the base camp so far.”

“Alright. We’ll be heading out in a few minutes. Notify us should anything change.”

“Yes, _alor’ad_. Advance out.”

_Alor’ad. _I look over to Tobias, and he smiles another proud smile.

Outsiders often assume that Mandalorians are one large, standing army; which is rather wrong. We can become an army; if we so choose or are called upon by our leaders. But every time, hierarchy has to be determined anew. You have the heads of houses or clans, who sort of naturally fill a commanding position, but everything else? Name or sigil has no meaning when it comes to skill. And your skill and integrity are the only things other _Mando’ade_ will follow.

Bo has shown them exactly that. She is smart, skilled and she does her part for the well-being of the group. And now, she has taken her chance to step out of Tobias’s shadow. Others might feel usurped, but I know Tobias, and I know I only feels pride.

###

**Again, if you don’t want to read about violence, skip from here…**

**Bo-Katan**

We reach the marshlands when the day’s light has already completely fainted. It takes a while for everyone to get into position on all sides of the marshes. When everybody is at their designated position, I have the two advance squads confirm that there is no unusual activity in and around the camp.

I am standing right next to Tobias, back in his own armor, and I can almost feel the anticipation rolling off him in waves. Fenn is on my other side, and I look over to him. I can’t see his face behind the visor, and yet I know my eyes are locking with his. He nods; a silent affirmation that everyone is ready.

I open a comm channel.

“Get ready,” I tell them. “Wait for the explosion, then charge on my mark.”

Tobias opens a private channel.

“You ready, _Bo’ika_?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

If this takes any longer, I might stop being ready.

The channel closes and I watch Tobias press a few buttons on his vambraces. And then, after a few seconds of holding our collective breaths, the base camp is shaken by several large explosions and goes up into flames.

I draw my blasters and hear everyone else do the same. I take a deep breath and call out to our warriors.

“Charge!”

###

**Ida**

Tobias and I chose very carefully where we placed the charges. We set them at strategic points all over the base camp while simultaneous making sure that no one would find them. It seems to have worked out just as planned. Right now, a hundred people minus a few casualties should be trying to put out the fires that have erupted all over the place.

Instead of a fifteen-minute walk, the flight over from the tree line to the camp is a matter of moments. Normally, the sound of several dozen jetpacks would alert an enemy, but they probably can’t hear us over the roaring of the fires.

I guess nick-naming Bo _ca’naar’ika_ – little night owl – just for the fun of it was rather fitting in hindsight. I watch her dive down first, swift and silent, with her Protectors right behind her. She aims and takes out her target with a single shot, shooting right back up into the night sky like a hunting night owl would do.

Next to me, I see Tobias dive down, too, and I follow. I pick my target carefully, aim, and fire. I can’t really tell if they are down, but I don’t have to. One warrior after the next sweeps down with blasters blazing, and someone will hit that person if I didn’t get him the first time around.

There is a part of me that feels for the people in the camp below, people from my own home; surrounded by flames and chaos as death comes swiftly from above.

###

**Bo-Katan**

I sweep down and shoot back up into the night over and over again. I love flying with a jetpack, mostly for the feeling of freedom and seeming weightlessness it offers.

For the first few passes, the people below are still in disarray. What should they do? Save their camp or save their lives. In the end, they choose their lives; firing back at us as best as they can. But we have the advantage, and there is not much they can do.

But of course, even with all the advantages we have, this operation is not without cost. I guess it never is. Now and again, I see a figure drop from the sky; not in the well-timed manner of an attack, but more like a projectile, if not an actual _drop_.

My Protectors stay close to me, and I realize there is something to be said about a certain number of Protectors assigned to just one person instead of a rotating roster. Gareth and Fenn know we well; well enough to anticipate my attacks and follow without any delay.

Now and then, a blaster bold form below strays close to us. Occasionally, it even hits _beskar_. Until it doesn’t.

I feel more than see Fenn swerve slightly to one side, and I hear his grunt of pain over the comm.

“_Fierfek_, that hurts,” I hear him grunt through clenched teeth.

“Fenn?” I ask concerned.

“Just a graze,” he answers. “I’ll live.”

I have to take his word for it. I feel a lump in my throat all the sudden but push the sensation back down. This is not the time for panic. The best way to make sure Fenn will be fine and will receive help quickly is by staying focused and end this.

###

**Ida**

There is no sense of time in battle. Never. While long and gruesome campaigns supposedly feel like an eternity, these skirmishes feel like hardly any time passes at all. I have no idea how long it took.

What I do know is that not a single person who lived in the basecamp is left alive. Their loss hits me differently than casualties in other fight ever have. Maybe because we come from the same planet, maybe I talked to some of these people, saw how they lived.

Casualties on our side are comparatively few. We lost ten people, and another dozen are wounded but not critical I assume, as they are still in the air. Bo’s plan worked, and she will have gained a lot of trust and regard from the warriors of her house. The potential Tobias sees in her and the trust he has in her abilities are not misplaced. Not only has she shown that she can strategize and improvise, but also that she can lead. That when the time comes for Tobias to step back, she can fill his position. Tobias is enormously proud of her; and he should be. I know I am, too.

But it is one thing to plan and successfully fight a battle. It’s another thing to deal with the aftermath. Tobias, Ruu and Roland have always been clear that there are some things they cannot yet leave to Bo. So now, it’s Tobias who takes over, addressing us over the comm.

“Ruu, you stay here with your warriors. With over a hundred dead, we cannot bury them all, especially with the place still burning. So, help the flames along. Torch the place; make sure it burns down to the ground. The marshes will stop the flames from reaching the woods. Everyone else, back to tree line. Roland’s medic is waiting there with all the necessary medical equipment to tend to the wounded. We’ll meet back at camp when everyone’s finished.”

###

**…and keep reading here.**

**Bo-Katan**

While I could fight off the lump in my throat during the skirmish, my worry for Fenn comes back full force as a I make my way over to where Ida and Roland’s medic are tending to the wounded.

“Hey, _Bo’ika_,” Ida says when she sees me. “Do me a favor and help Fenn out of his armor will you? He’s got a graze at his side and one on his arm and I can’t reach those otherwise.”

“Uhm…sure,” I say, and make my way over to where Fenn is sitting in a tree stump.

He smiles up at me, but I can see that he is in some pain at least.

“Ida asked if I could help you with the armor,” I tell him, and he nods.

“I would appreciate that,” he answers. “I tried on my own a failed miserably.”

“I can imagine,” I say, remembering how he needed to help me out of my armor, too, when that warrior managed to graze my arm.

I work methodically; first removing the shoulder guards, then the jetpack and back armor, stomach and chest armor after that, the magnetic seals releasing with a quiet _plop_.

The padded undershirt comes off next, shredded at one side where the shot tore through the fabric. I am extremely careful in removing the upper half of his compression suit, gently pulling it away from the burned skin.

I have seen Fenn without a shirt multiple times now – I even _felt_ him against me when that bilger surprised me in that pool – put pulling his armor and clothes away to reveal what lies underneath is somewhat different.

But I shut down that line of thought, focusing instead on the two grazes and not on the skin and muscle and freckles in front of me.

“I’ll get Ida,” I say, and my voice sound deeper and raspier than usual.

Like Ida did a few weeks ago when I got that graze on my arm, she just hands me everything I’ll need to tend to Fenn.

“You can do it,” she says, and I think I detect a hint of mischief in her sparkling blue eyes. “I don’t think Fenn will mind.”

I role my eyes but take everything from her and walk back to Fenn.

“Ida’s busy,” I explain, and he nods.

“I’m warning you,” I tell him. “I’m not known for being a gentle nurse I’m afraid.”

“Are you a competent one?” Fenn asks.

I shrug. “I guess so. I so have training as a field medic.”

Fenn grins and shakes his head. “I surrender myself to your capable hands then.”

I douse my hands in disinfectant.

“Arm or side first?”

“What’s worse?”

I shrug. “Side I guess.”

“Then the side first.”

I nod. “Alright. Get up, please.”

Fenn does, and I take a deep breath.

“Ready?”

“We’ll see.”

“Try not to move.”

I put disinfectant on one of the wipes and start to carefully dab at the wound. Fenn hisses and grabs my forearm in an iron grip, breathing heavily.

“You want me to get Ida to give you a local anesthetic?”

Fenn shakes his head. “No, just…give me a second.”

He takes a few deep breaths, his grip on my arm slowly loosening.

“Okay,” he says eventually. “Keep going.”

I nod and take a deep breath myself before I continue to clean the wound.

It must sting and burn, but Fenn holds remarkably still for the rest of it. When I am done, I place the large bacta patch over the graze, carefully smoothing out the adhesive edges. I notice the goosebumps that form where my fingers brush Fenn’s skin.

“Stars, that’s much better,” he sighs in relief.

The graze on his arm is much easier to treat. When I am done and are about to pull my hands away, Fenn suddenly covers one of my hands with his, his fingers warm around mine.

“Thank you,” he says, and I nod.

“Anytime.”

But he doesn’t let go yet but smiles down at me.

“Well done today,” he says, so low that only I can hear, and squeezes my hand.

I smile up at him, but the smile fades quickly.

“Today is not over,” I say.

Tobias took command when the skirmish was over, giving the order to burn the place. I am thankful for that; I honestly wouldn’t have known what to do at that moment.

But I know the names of the people who died, and I feel I should be the one to say their names tonight in remembrance.

Fenn looks down at me and I can see the approval in his eyes. But there are other things there, too, that I can’t place.

Fenn moves my hand away from his arm, moving his fingers until he holds my hand in the courtly manner I’ve often seen dignitaries take Mother’s or Satine’s. He bows down slightly, and I gasp softly as his lips gently and carefully brush over my knuckles.

“I am honored, my Lady, to be your Protector,” he says in a quiet and sincere voice. “But more so, I am truly thankful to have you as a friend.”

###

**Ida**

It is night now and the camp is quiet again. I watch Tobias from the entrance as he is sitting by a small light in the armorer’s tent.

Tobias has always had a soft spot for Bo. Not only because she physically reminds him of his mother, but because of all his nieces and nephews, she has shown the greatest potential. _Mandokarla_. And because maybe, in a way, Bo is the daughter we were never fortunate enough to have.

Bo doesn’t know this, but after Elia’s death and Adonai’s subsequent break down, it was talked about whether it might be better to take Bo and Cal to Kalevala. Tobias and I would have taken them in and fostered them in a heartbeat. But Adonai didn’t want his children to be as separated as he had been from his siblings. It was something Tobias could not argue with – and never did.

The last weeks and months have shown that Tobias’s trust in Bo’s abilities was not misplaced. He is enormously proud of her, but maybe never as much as tonight. Just as Tobias was about to get up to say the remembrance, Bo had placed a hand on his shoulder and shaken her head. Then she had gotten up and moved to the center of the camp. I know she must have been nervous, but her voice was clear and steady as she said the words.

I think Tobias made up his mind in that exact moment. After Bo and Fenn had fallen asleep – holding hands, as almost always these days – Tobias had taken the shoulder plates from Bo’s armor and walked over to the armorer’s tent. He had first taken a piece of flimsy and a pen, drawing different designs until he was satisfied. Then he had gotten black and white paint and had started to transfer the design to the shoulder guards. Tobias is no artist like Alanna, but he is not untalented either.

Technically, as a member of Clan Kryze, Bo already has a sigil. But there is no rule that you can’t have more than one. And a sigil earned is something different than a sigil inherited.

###

**Bo-Katan**

I am usually an early riser, but as I slowly wake up this morning, I realize it must be much later that usual. But I am thankful they let me sleep, I needed it, to be honest.

I get up and stretch and gather up my things, exchanging my sleeping clothes for the compression suit, pants and undershirt. I reach for my armor…and stop.

My shoulder plates are sitting on top of my piled armor. They used to be just plain purple, but now? Now, there is a new sigil on them. My hands shake a little as I pick them up and take a closer look. The sigil is circular, with a thin, black circle on the outside. The inside has a white background with black markings on it. The interplay of black and white is what gives the sigil its meaning; they form the stylized image of a night owl’s face.

###

When I leave the tent, it feels like all eyes are on me, whether they truly are or not.

I find Tobias alone in the command tent. I thought about what to say to him, but when I enter the tent, I forget it all. Instead I walk over to him and throw my arms around him. His arms encircle my shoulders, and he places a kiss on top of my head.

“I am so proud of you,” his whispers into my hair.

We stand there like that for a while until the others enter the tent for the morning briefing.

The briefing is about how we should continue from here. The meeting itself is structured as usual, there is nothing truly special about it. And yet, I feel like my position has changed in the eyes of the others. I am not just Satine’s little sister, not just Tobias’s niece, and not just a decently trained warrior. I have earned my place among them now. And it feels good.

###

** _From the journal of Tobias Kryze_ **

_One year. That’s how long we pretended to have forgotten all about the hidden passageway in the library._

_But tonight, I took the chance. And I didn’t take it alone. Though I originally wanted to go with Adonai and Alanna, the two went to bed far too early to pull it off. But Elia Jennis did not._

_Father has the head of Clan Jennis and his family staying in the capital again for trade negotiations, and – if even possible – Elia is even prettier then the last time I met her. I thought I had just a little crush on her. But that moment she walked into the throne room behind her father…stars, all I can think about again is her._

_So, tonight, the two of us snuck out of the palace and the city all the way to the underground lake. It’s a truly beautiful place. The lake isn’t all that big, but very clear. Bioluminescent weeds are growing along the cave walls, lighting everything up in shades of blue and green._

_We didn’t go swimming…we just sat at the edge of the lake with our feet in it and talked. We are very different, but there is something about Elia that sets her apart from any other girl I have ever met. Though we have different ideals, I appreciate her mind. She’s smart, intelligent, and funny. And maybe, just maybe, I am in love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puh... This felt lengthy to write... But maybe that's just because I had so little time to write that it just felt like it took forever. I hope it didn't feel too lengthy to read :-)
> 
> The next chapter will be from Fenn's POV. And man, that boy has it bad... All they need is a spark that lights the fire, and maybe Fenn is the one holding the matches ;-)


	18. Reprieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group needs a break, Bo has to deal with new information about her siblings, Fenn gets unexpected advice, and takes a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching to Fenn’s POV.

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_I am exhausted. Not physically, but mentally. The last few weeks were packed with all sorts of things. We visited Sundari twice due to social events that required the Mand’alor’s family to be there. There were also a lot of things here on Kalevala that needed to be dealt with._

_It’s gotten easier the older Tobias and Alanna get. By now, they are old enough that I can delegate some of the tasks to them. As important as it is for Adonai to learn everything about ruling from his father, it is just as important for Tobias and Alanna to learn how to keep this planet running. That is something Adonai will not really have time for. And if his wife – whoever that might one day be – will be up to the task or even willing to do it, is only written in the stars._

_Gareth and I talked about going on a hunting trip with the children, but neither Tobias nor Alanna seem to be partial to it at the moment. They are both glad that they are home and that they are back to something like a normal routine. But they both seem to understand that I need a break._

_Tobias suggested that Gareth and I could go hunting for a few days and leave him and Alanna in charge. He said it is unlikely that everything will go to haran just because I am away for a few nights. And he is probably right._

_I want to go hunting. I might even go so far as to say that I need to go. I need the quiet of the woods, the air, and the space._

_The thought of no other company than Gareth is both frightening and exciting to me. There is a part of me that itches to be alone with him, far away from our duties. And maybe we need time alone together. Time to really face the feelings we have for each other. But as to what result…_

###

The sun is mercilessly beating down on us from above as we make our way up the rocky slope of the mountain. After a few more weeks in the woods, we are moving further north and east, heading up the mountain ridge. The ridge covers almost all of the eastern side of the continent, with several peaks high enough to be covered with snow even now during the hottest days of summer.

The last few weeks have been exhausting. The Vizslas have changed their tactics, trying to draw us out of the woods and into open country. They have started what we have all dreaded; they have been attacking villages and homesteads. Some have managed to defend themselves. But many New Mandalorian settlements have been overrun and eradicated.

Somewhere further south, a Vizsla commander set fire to an entire wood to flush the groups of House Kryze out. It resulted in several hundred deaths on both sides.

This war is claiming more and more lives the longer it lasts. Not only here on Kalevala, but everywhere. Vorpa’ya has now fallen completely to the Vizslas. Rumor has it that some people managed to escape. Those who didn’t have already met their end. Breshig is still fought over, so is Cheravh. One of Lady Ida’s younger siblings is dead now. Ordo is holding out for now, but their casualties, too, are rising every day. I have no idea how _ba’buir_ is, or if she’s even still alive.

Bo-Katan is walking next to me; silent, lost in her own thoughts most likely. She had been able to talk to Satine again. And like before, the conversation has left Bo-Katan somewhat rattled and pensive. I wasn’t there, and Bo hasn’t really said anything so far. She will, when she is ready, but her silence worries me none the less.

We’ve been constantly on the move for the last few weeks, not bothering to put up the tents. We’ve never stayed at the same location for more than two nights in a row. With the weather warm and sunny, the tents are not really necessary, but the lack of privacy and rest is getting to everyone.

I think everyone has snapped at someone at least once, but that’s harmless. Last week, a fight had broken out. Over what, no one could really tell. It had taken Lord Tobias, Gareth, Roland and me to pull those idiots apart. I’ve never seen Lord Tobias as angry as that day. It was a controlled anger. He didn’t raise his voice; no, his voice was barely more than a whisper. But the look on his face… The green eyes almost completely engulfed in yellow. It was enough to make the two culprits shrink back in fear.

Two day ago, Lord Tobias had gathered us – Ruu, Roland, Ida, Bo, Gareth and me – together a little away from the others. “We need a break,” he had said. No one argued. After checking the map and the other groups’ locations, Lord Tobias decided that the ground is covered well enough without us for a few days and that we would head up into the mountains.

It is midday now, and it feels like we’re being slow cooked in our armor. Right now, I’d give a lot for a space-worthy, climate-controlled flight suit underneath the _beskar’gam_. I need a break, but I am sure as _haran_ not going to say something.

Lady Ida falls a few steps back to walk besides Bo and me.

“We’re almost there,” she says, sounding as exhausted as I feel. “The entrance to the cave system is hard to reach, but it is worth it.”

Bo and I nod, too exhausted to really answer her.

“The cave system and the gorge it leads to are well hidden. They are very beautiful; a good place to rest a few days,” she continues. “There is a stream running down the gorge. The water is crystal clear, and rather shallow. But there are several larger pools and even a small waterfall. Honestly, that’s the first thing I’m gonna do. I’m gonna get out of my armor and dive headfirst into one of those pools.”

Bo and I chuckle. But it does sound like the best idea anyone has had in the last couple of weeks. And we all really do need a bath…

###

Half an hour later, and we are supposedly there. It takes a while until I see the narrow crevice in the otherwise gray rock. It’s barely large enough for a tall and fully armored man to squeeze through. Getting the equipment inside is even harder.

The crevice opens into a small, circular cave. From there, a narrow tunnel leads deeper into the mountain. It’s dark, but at least it’s cooler in here.

We walk down the narrow tunnel for about another half hour. And then, suddenly, there is a faint light and the tunnel ends abruptly. We step out into a large cave with a domed ceiling. The ceiling is punctured with holes, letting the daylight in.

“This is the main cave,” Lord Tobias says, loud enough so everyone can hear him, his voice echoing back from the walls. “We will use this as a central meeting point. As you can see, there are several corridors leading away from here. They lead to hubs of smaller caves that we can use as sleeping quarters. The small caves number into the hundreds, so feel free to pick one you like. If you keep going straight, you’ll find that that tunnel opens into a gorge. By all means, jump in one of the pools. I know I will.”

There is actual laughter and cheering. It is good to hear after the last few weeks.

“We only have a few days here,” Lord Tobias continues. “So, use them. Sleep, eat, drink. Sleep some more.”

Roland chuckles and then shouts: “_Gal, ori’skraan, riduur, yaim’dab’ika!_”

###

Water. Clear, cool and refreshing. I take a deep breath and let myself sink until my head is underwater. For a few moments, there is nothing but broken light and silence around me. The pool isn’t deep; maybe two and a half meters. I let my feet touch the ground and push myself back up. When my head breaks the surface again, the sound of about twenty people splashing around and shouting like kids in a public pool rush back immediately.

Usually, when I think of people like Lord Tobias and Lady Ida, Gareth, Ruu and Roland, I think of them as responsible adults. Experienced leaders, steadfast rocks in a sea of chaos. But now, that picture is slightly shaken.

Those five were the first ones to leave the central cave and walk out into the gorge. I think several people’s jaws dropped as we watched them detach their armor and peel of the rest of their clothes until they all stood there in their underwear. My jaw had dropped even further when I watched Roland take a few steps back and yell “Cannonball!”, running toward one of the larger and deeper pools and jumping in with a gigantic splash.

“You’re an amateur!” Gareth had shouted when Roland was back up. “Let me show you how it’s really done.”

By then, my jaw had hit the ground as I watched Gareth jump into the same pool as Roland, creating an even bigger splash.

“You two will never truly grow up, will you?” Ruu had asked exasperated.

“Boys will be boys,” Lord Tobias had answered – and had pushed first Ruu and then Lady Ida in the pool, only to jump in right after.

After that, I think we all stared a little more as those five started to duck each other under water. Oh well, I guess growing up is underrated.

I take a look around from the pool I am in. It’s a little way off and no one else is in here with me, so I can let my eyes move over the place without anyone interrupting.

I stop when my eyes find Bo-Katan. She’s sitting on a large rock with three other girls. One is a second cousin; white-blond and blue-eyed, the spitting image of a Kryze. The other two are Ruu’s grandnieces. Like Ruu, they are olive-skinned with dark hair and dark eyes. Like everyone else, they have all stripped down to their underwear.

The other boys refrain from commenting on Bo-Katan, at least when I am around. But they do comment on the other three. Ruu’s nieces are very pretty and definitely in a wild-child phase, as apparently several of the other boys can attest to by now. They also comment on Bo’s cousin, especially on her…well, let’s just say we know now that her chest plate does not exaggerate things.

Maybe Bo does pale in comparison to those three; at least in the eyes of the others. But certainly not in mine.

I let my eyes linger on her face for a while. The scar on her forehead, the delicate eyebrows, the long lashes framing those startling green eyes. The high cheekbones with their dusting of freckles. And her lips. Those damnably full, red lips that have wormed their way into my nightly dreams and daytime phantasies.

My gaze drops lower, along her pale and slender neck to the freckles on her shoulders and her chest. She has no freckles on her stomach, so they must end somewhere in between. I’d like to find out where exactly they end; to uncover what is always safely hidden behind the black fabric of an unadorned, functional, cover-it-all compression bra.

I watch as Bo gets up and I let my eyes trail further down, along her slim waist and rounded hips and long legs. Her slim frame hides her physical strength; hides how quick and adaptable she is.

But that’s only half of it. She’s smart, resourceful. She has a dry sense of humor. And there is a gentleness about her that few people ever get to see. A gentleness that sometimes softens her eyes, turning them almost emerald. But there is also passion; a fire that shines through when the yellow flecks in her eyes become dangerously prominent. I sometimes rile her up while sparring, just to see that fierce look flash across her face.

I look away before Bo’s eyes can find mine, and she can see that I’ve been staring at her. But after a moment I look up again to see her standing at the edge of the pool I’m in.

“Mind if I come in?” she asks.

“No,” I answer.

She carefully slips into the water, staying at the edge, leaning her head back against the rocky ground, eyes closed.

“This is so much better than those muddy pools in the marshes,” she says with a content sigh, opening her eyes again to smile at me.

I smile back. “Definitely.”

Bo pushes off the pool’s edge then, takes a deep breath and dives, letting herself sink like I did, until her feet find the floor and she pushes back up. Her hair is plastered to her face, dark red now that it’s wet. She leans her head back into the water, exposing her neck, pushing the wayward strands back from her face. _Fierfek_, I’ll dream about that tonight…

Bo grabs the edge of the pool again to steady herself. Then she grins at me.

“You can’t stand in here, either,” she states, the grin becoming more wicked with every passing moment.

And then that fierce look flashes across her face, and it’s the only warning I get before Bo lunges up and forward, pushing herself away from the edge with her legs, trying to duck me. I only have time to breath in before she pushes me underwater. As she pushes me down, she quickly tries to draw back out of my range. But this is not the first time someone has ducked me. I let my feet reach the bottom, using the downward momentum to push off the bottom and propel myself in her direction. I come up for air quickly while I’m lunging forward and bodily wrestle her underwater. She wiggles in my arms, trying to escape; after a few seconds, I release her. We both come up for air again, laughing.

Honestly, Bo-Katan laughing is my most favorite sound. It’s bell-like and throaty all at once; contradictory and harmonious at the same time, like so many things about her, and hence perfect for her.

I know my mind will run wild tonight; will mix her laugh and the feeling of her skin under my fingers from moments ago into a waking dream that is both relief and pain at the same time.

###

We’ve all eaten dinner together in the central cave. It was quiet, but companionable. But were all tired, and so we have collectively called it a night; everyone withdrawing to their own small, personal cave.

No one put their armor back on after the swim in the pools. I only put on my shirt and pants like everyone else. I’m about to take the pants off for the night, when I hear someone clear their throat behind me. I turn around to find Bo-Katan standing there, the dim light of the lamp casting her in shades of black and orange.

I see her take a deep breath and swallow.

“Can I come in for a second?”

“Sure.”

“I…Can I talk to you? About my talk with Satine?”

“Of course,” I answer. “Here, come sit down.”

I sit down on my sleeping bag, motioning for her to sit next to me. She does, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. I angle myself slightly toward her, so I can see her expression in the dim light. Bo takes a deep breath, and then begins to speak.

“We talked a bit about this and that,” she begins. “How are you? How are you holding up? Things like that. We managed not to argue this time. She and her Jedi have been on Draboon for a while. Apparently, the younger Jedi and Satine accidently managed to stir a nest of venom-mites. While running away from that plague, Satine supposedly twisted her ankle, and the boy had to carry her to safety, only to stumble over a root and dropping Satine unceremoniously to the floor. She’s got a scar between the second and third rib now. She called the boy a _di’kut_. But the way she said it…You know how you can call someone a _di’kut_, but in a way you know it’s not really an insult, more of an endearment?”

I nod.

“Well, anyway,” Bo continues. “Be that as it may. It’s not really what I wanted to talk about.”

“Alright. What do you want to talk about, then?”

Bo sighs. “After Draboon, they were on Breshig, talking to the clan chieftains again. So far, nothing surprising, really. No, the big surprise came when she told me where she was now. She was on Gargon.”

“Gargon? Where your brother is?”

She nods. “She got to see Cal.”

_Fierfek._ This explains why she was silent for the last few days.

“How is he?” I venture.

“Good. He and Laurea got married.”

She sounds off. Like she wants to be happy, but there is something bothering her.

“Bo-Katan?”

She takes a shaky breath. “Satine was there for the vows.”

_Shabla haran. Fierfek. _Satine was there when their brother got married. And Bo was not.

“It was a coincidence,” Bo continues, her voice quivering slightly. “Just fekking luck she happened to be there. She didn’t intent to. But…”

“It hurts none the less,” I finish for her.

She nods, closing her eyes, and takes a deep but shaky breath.

“I…I asked her if I could talk to Cal…I was so excited at the prospect…”

Bo’s eyes start glistening.

“And then…then Satine said that is wasn’t possible. That Cal and Laurea went into hiding just after being married.”

“Into hiding?” I ask, truly confused. “But why…” _Oh._

“Laurea is pregnant.”

I remember what Duke Adonai had said all those months back in his study. That Calvin is the only child of his in a position to produce legitimate heirs for now. They must hide and keep this quiet. If Tor Vizsla found out about it and managed to get his hands on Laurea Priest, he’d most likely kill the mother just to kill the unborn child.

“How…How far along is she?” I blurt out.

“About three months.” Bo swallows. “This war will most likely still rage when the child is born. I will have a niece or nephew and…and I won’t see them. None of them.”

The tears spill then, running down her cheeks. Like so many times by now, I fold her in my arms, pulling her against me, holding her close. Her entire frame is shaking as she sobs into my shoulder. I feel my shirt getting wet, but I don’t mind. I hold her, whispering that it’s okay, and that everything will turn out fine.

“I miss them, Fenn. So much.”

“I know, Bo. I know.”

###

I wake up slowly. There is a weight on my right shoulder, threatening to cut off the circulation in my arm. It’s a warm weight. Soft. My entire right side is strangely warm, as is my stomach. My still sleepy mind can’t make heads or tails out of it, until the weight shifts slightly…and sighs.

I snap awake immediately. There, pressed against me, with her head on my should and her arm around my middle, is Bo-Katan.

I don’t remember her staying. _Haran_, I don’t even remember lying down. We must have both fallen asleep, exhausted as we were.

My right arm is half numb, but I can’t bring myself to move and wake her. Not to mention that this is nice. Very nice. _Fierfek_, I could wake up like this for the rest of my life and be a very happy man.

Bo shifts again though, waking up on her own.

“Good morning,” I whisper, but it startles her anyway, and she makes a surprised noise.

“Sorry,” she says, quickly sitting up. “I…I must have fallen asleep. I…Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I say, sitting up next to her. “I don’t remember falling asleep either.”

Bo looks at me, her expression still a bit flustered, her cheeks flushed a very pretty shade of pink. But she smiles. It’s small, but honest.

“Feeling better?” I inquire.

She looks thoughtful for a moment, but then nods.

“Yeah, I do, actually.”

“Good. Hungry?”

Bo nods again, and smiles. “Yes.”

###

There really is nothing else to do but to sleep, eat, and swim all day. It’s midday now, and though the gorge is narrow, the sun still beats down on the rock and water, making the air hazy. Most people have gone inside to eat or nap.

Ida uses the unusual amount of time to give everyone a check-up, whether we want or not. But everyone knows better than to argue with her. A few minutes ago, I watched her drag a protesting Bo into the cave. It looked a bit comedic, actually, and I might have chuckled a bit.

While I’m debating whether I should go inside, too, and eat something or just lie down here in the shade and fall asleep, Gareth comes out of the caves and looks around. He spots me and comes over.

“Mind if I sit down?” he asks.

“No, of course not.”

He flops down on the ground and lets his gaze sweep over the gorge.

“Did she talk to you?” he asks, not needing to say who and about what.

I nod. “Yes, she did. Satine saw Cal.”

Gareth groans. “_Fierfek_. That must have hurt.”

“Yes,” I confirm. “But that’s not all. Satine’s visit to Gargon was timely. She was there for the vows between Cal and Laurea.”

“_Haar’chak._”

“Laurea is pregnant. They went into hiding. Bo couldn’t talk to Cal.”

“_Shab_.”

Gareth sighs. A long, resigned sigh.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” he continues. “Adonai and his siblings were very close but were separated by their duties. But they always stuck together, no matter what. Of course, there were times when they argued or when circumstances threatened to tear them apart. But they always, in the end, sided with each other. Adonai’s children had the luxury to grow up together, and yet they seem to drift further apart the older they get. Their different personalities, their different ideals. They love each other, but I am afraid this war will drive a wedge between them that will be hard to overcome.”

We are silent for a while. Gareth is right, the siblings seem to drift further apart the longer the war goes on. As to what it means for the time after, that is hard to tell.

Gareth clears his throat.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“Sure.”

“Bo-Katan has her own room, but she stayed with you last night.”

It’s not a question, just a statement. To my surprise, Gareth doesn’t sound angry.

“We just fell asleep. We were exhausted,” I say in my defense.

Gareth sighs and for a moment, there is a far-away look in his eyes. A bit dreamy, but also sad.

“I lied to you, you know,” he says, still looking straight ahead. “The night of the engagement party.”

I frown. “About what?”

“About not saying or doing anything about what I felt for her grandmother.”

Gareth takes a deep breath but continues.

“We were idiots,” he says. “It took us twenty years to confront what was between us. After that, we barely had a year of stolen moments. One year…before she died.”

“So why did you lie?” I want to know.

Gareth looks at me and raises his eyebrows.

“She had just lost her brother. She had other things to deal with than the attentions of a cocky _di’kut_.”

I am about to protest, but Gareth keeps going.

“You were cocky,” he says, and I grumble. I know he’s right. But who really likes to hear things like that?

“Anyway,” he continues as he gets up from the ground. “Don’t make the same mistake we did and wait until it is almost too late. Love may endure and wait. Time is not so kind.”

He walks away then, back toward the caves. And I sit here, reeling.

###

The holes in the ceiling allow for fires to be lit in the central cave. It is still beyond me how the kitchens manage to produce decent food in an environment such as this. But they did, and everyone has been eating, and drinking, and singing, and dancing way into the night.

I let myself be talked into playing the Mandoviol again. Nothing sad or epic this time though, just popular songs people know and like. After an hour and hurting finger caps, I’ve handed the instrument back to its owner.

Bo and I are sitting next to each other by a fire now, eating uj cake. Bo is looking over to another fire, a smile on her face. I follow her gaze, and smile, too.

Lord Tobias and Lady Ida are sitting in a circle around another fire with the others. Lord Tobias looks relaxed in a way I’ve never seen before…or at least never had a chance to see before. Lady Ida has her hair down, the long, sandy-blond waves shimmering in the firelight. She’s leaning into her husband’s side, his arm around her shoulders. They look content.

My thoughts are interrupted when one of they guys drops down by our fire we’ve been sitting at with the others who are around our age.

“_Tihaar_, anyone?” he asks, and there are cheers around the fire.

But I don’t feel like alcohol. The air inside the cave feels stuffy; hot and unmoving.

The bottle gets passed around. When it gets to Bo, she looks at it, but then shakes her head, and passes it to me.

“I need some air first,” she says.

I pass the bottle to the guy next to me.

“Yeah, me, too,” I say and get up.

I hold my hand out to her, and she takes it, letting herself be pulled up.

“Party poopers,” Bo’s cousin says, but she grins, and Bo and I make our way toward the gorge.

###

The air outside is still warm and unmoving, but it is much better than inside none the less. The moon is almost full, casting everything in a silvery glow.

“Didn’t Aunt Ida say that there is a waterfall here somewhere?” Bo asks.

I nod. “There is. About twenty minutes downstream. Found it this afternoon.”

“Can you show me?”

“Sure, come on.”

We set out downstream, walking side by side. We don’t talk, just enjoying the silence. It takes a while for me to realize that I never let go of her hand after helping her up. And I don’t let go now. And neither is she.

We reach the waterfall, watching it for a while as it rushes down the side of the gorge.

“Is there another stream up there?” Bo asks.

“I guess so,” I answer.

“How deep is the water here?”

I shrug. “Not that deep. Waist high, maybe? You want to go in?”

Now Bo shrugs. “It’s still warm, so why not?”

###

The water is cool and refreshing, a nice contrast to the still warm air. For a while, Bo and I just paddle around. We let ourselves drift now and then, looking up into the night sky.

“I wish I could stay here,” Bo suddenly says into the quiet, her eyes fixed on the moon.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “Here, on Kalevala. Even when the war is over. This feels more like home than Sundari ever has. I want to stay in that room in the stronghold with that beautiful view, keep training in that yard. I want to stay with _ba’vodu_ and Ida, learn more from them. I want to go back to all the beautiful places we’ve seen, but without the threat of being killed. I…I found so many things in all of this. Purpose, family, friends.”

I look at her, then move closer to her. She stands up in the water, and I stop right in front of her.

“I guess it comes down to a rather philosophical point,” I say, looking into her beautiful eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “To fret about what will eventually come, and fear to lose all those things we’ve found. Or to embrace what we have while we have it, before we one day wake up wondering why we never took our chances.”

And then, I follow my own advice, and take a chance.

I lean down, slowly, until my forehead touches hers. A gesture as intimate as a kiss, and yet not quite the same. I feel my heart pounding in my chest, and Bo-Katan’s shaky breath on my skin. She doesn’t pull away, only closes her eyes. I slowly move one hand to the small of her back, pulling her closer.

“I know our paths might very well lead into different directions when this war is over,” I say, and the thought alone is painful. “But I don’t want to regret not having used the time we’re given.”

I lean in further, then, let my eyes fall closed and brush my lips against hers.

A strangled sound escapes her lips, a breathless whimper, as she moves closer until our bodies are touching. I kiss her again, and tentative kiss, and to my great relief, she kisses me back.

I open my eyes to look at her. Her eyes are wide and wonderous, searching mine. Her breathing is fast, the air coming in quick gasps through her parted lips. Lips I capture again with mine in another kiss, and another, and another. I wrap my other arm around her shoulders, pulling her even closer, and feel her hands on my back, her fingers digging into my skin. I feel her tongue against my lips and part them, allowing her entrance.

After a while, we need to break apart for air, our panting breaths almost drowned out by the rushing of the waterfall. All I can do for a while is look at Bo in amazement, and smile. She smiles back.

After a while, my lips find hers again. The kisses are slower now, gentle. We allow our hands to wander, carefully exploring. Our touches are light, sometimes too light, and one of us has to giggle when fingers brush against a particularly ticklish spot.

I brush my fingers over the freckles on her chest.

“Where do they end?” I blurt out.

Bo giggles. A most delightful sound. “You want to know?”

“I’ve been wondering for a while,” I answer.

“Really?”

“M-hm.”

Bo steps back and I wonder if I’ve said something I shouldn’t have. I’m about to apologize, when I see her twist her arms behind her back, opening her bra.

I gape. I know I gape. But I can’t help it. Bo opens her bra, slowly taking it off, and I am in heaven. Her breasts are on the smaller side, but they might just be the most beautiful ones I have ever seen. High and softly rounded, tipped in dark, pinkish nipples and with the freckles fanning out on them.

“Stars, you’re beautiful,” I whisper, and Bo huffs out a laugh.

She closes the distance between us again, laying her head against my chest and sneaking her arm around my middle. I fold my arms around her, and sigh contently.

###

We stay at the waterfall for another long while, kissing and touching away, until the exhaustion of the last few weeks makes itself known again. We climb out of the water and just pull our shirts over, carrying the pants back with us.

We don’t bother with different sleeping quarters. Bo gets her stuff out of her cave, placing her sleeping pad and bag next to mine. We lie down and she snuggles into my side.

I know that the end of the war could mean the end of this. But I am glad we are here together now.

I pull her closer, reveling in her scent and in her warmth, and let her deep, even breathing pull me into sleep.

###

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_Everyone keeps telling me I look good. Refreshed, rested, relaxed. Stars, if they knew…_

_If they knew the secrets the woods know… of the kisses and of the lovemaking. And of the words whispered into the other’s ear. Of all that was said and done in a week to make up for almost twenty years lost. A week of true freedom. And I regret not a single moment o it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations**  
_Gal, ori’skraan, riduur, yaim’dab’ika!_ \- Phrase for a *run ashore* - brief R and R. (Lit: "Beer, big eats, good company and return to camp.") Summary of a Mando soldier's idea of a good night out.
> 
> Woohoo! They kissed! Finally!!!  
As you see, I upped the rating to M. Personally, there is nothing in here of yet that I would find inappropriate for teenagers. But the rating would have to go up in the following chapters anyway ;-)


	19. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made to end the war, Bo wonders about the relationship between her mother and uncle, Fenn takes her mind of the matter for the night, but Bo gets answers the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the smut…

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_Stars, I feel like a teenager again… All Gareth and I can have here at the stronghold are stolen moments; a brush of fingers or secret kiss when no one is looking. And sometimes…well…let’s just say it took a while to inventory the armory yesterday._

_We can’t be open about this, but we both knew that beforehand. But I want to. I want to tell the whole world how happy I am. I told Gareth, and in return, he said something to me that no man has ever said to me before._

_Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum._

_I love you._

###

The last days of summer have passed. Our little time-out in the gorge is already half forgotten as the day to day business of this war has completely engulfed us again.

We’ve stayed in the mountains but moved a bit further south and a lot higher up. Our current encampment is partially inside a small cave system and partly made up of tents. It’s not a bad arrangement, actually. Command, infirmary, armory and ‘fresher are all outside in the tents, while we use the remaining tents and the smaller caves as personal quarters. It gives us a lot more privacy, and that is definitely a good thing.

If anyone thought it weird that Fenn and I moved into the same tent, they haven’t said anything. Maybe people weren’t all that surprised. There have been no side comments from Gareth or _ba’vodu_ either, so I guess they have accepted things as they are.

As to what exactly things are…Fenn and I needed half a year to go from meeting each other for the first time to our first kiss. A slow fall for one another; from Lady and Protector to friends to…what? It is hard to find a word that describes our current relationship.

Maybe we are just continue to progress as slowly as we did up to this point. And I like it this way, actually. Fenn is a damn good kisser, and I could happily spend hours doing nothing else. The rest is…explorative, in a way. Idle hours spend kissing and touching; figuring out what the other likes and what not. And as I learn what Fenn likes, I find out new things about what _I_ like, too.

Like right now for example. I tried to get dressed, but Fenn slipped his arms around my middle from behind, pulling my back against his chest. And now, he is laying a line of soft, gentle kisses along my neck. It tickles a bit, as he has not yet shaved this morning, but otherwise…He starts right below my ear, slowly working his way down. He continues along my shoulder, pushing the strap of my bra aside to have no obstacles in his way. I close my eyes, sigh contently, and let my head fall back against Fenn’s shoulder.

He moves back up again until his lips are right below my ear again.

“You smell good,” he whispers, accompanied by a low hum like he’s about to have his favorite food.

“Really? Like what?”

I feel Fenn grin against my skin.

“Different things,” he says. “Firewood from last night, for example. But underneath all those things, there is that scent that is distinctly you. It doesn’t smell like anything else; it’s just you.”

I giggle, but I know what he means.

If it were up to me, we could keep going like this for the rest of the morning. But _ba’vodu_ has called a meeting, and we can’t be late for that.

“We have to go,” I whine.

“I know,” Fenn sighs.

He carefully readjusts the strap of my bra. I look up at him, and he gives me a quick kiss on the lips.

###

The meeting this morning is crowded. Next to our usual group, there are several other clan leaders from all over the sector present via holo transmission. I see Lincoln Ordo and Ansgar Rodarch, both looking a little worse for wear but otherwise fine.

“My friends,” _ba’vodu_ begins. “This war has been going on for half a year now. And the longer it goes on, the more lives it is going to cost. Not just that of the warriors actively fighting, but those of everyone else, too. It could be argued, as some of you have done lately, that it is the New Mandalorians’ own fault if they do not fight back. But, as _I_ have said before, that view is too narrow. This war is also costing the lives of farmers, builders, miners, teachers, doctors…pick any profession that allows any society to function properly. It has also begun to cost the lives of children, who have done nothing wrong but be in the wrong place at the wrong time. If this war continues much longer, if it spreads to systems that have for now stayed out of it, I am afraid that by the end of it, there will be not enough left of Mandalore and its people to rebuild it.

“So far, our strategy has worked and the Vizslas are stretched thin over the sector, fighting on different fronts and – as here on Kalevala – occasionally without any further support from the capital. But we now see the Vizslas beginning to adapt, to change their strategy to draw _us_ out. So, we have to come to a decision. Keep fighting in the way we do right now in hopes of slowly gaining enough ground, or to proceed with the next part of our plan and begin the preparations to end this war and with it, Tor Vizsla’s rule.”

There are several moments of silence when _ba’vodu_ is finished, everyone letting his words sink in. Ansgar Rodarch is the first one to answer.

“I can only speak for Cheravh,” he says, “but we are exactly in the situation Tobias is describing. Civilian casualties are rising. For now, we still have the support of the people. But we all know that that is something that can change quickly. The clans of House Kryze here on Cheravh are in agreement that we cannot drag this war out for much longer.”

Some heads are nodded around the tactical station. Other’s look grim.

“Cheravh is in a lucky place then,” a woman in green and yellow armor says. “You have a planet full of trained warriors. We are not so lucky. Breshig may have a large population that are members of House Kryze, but about two thirds of them are New Mandalorians. For now, I am lucky enough that my forces can hold their ground. I do not have the resources or the men for a planet-wide strike against the clans of House Vizsla.”

“The thing is, Tella, you might not have to,” Lincoln addresses the woman. “We don’t need to take every planet. We just need to take enough.”

“To what result?” the woman, Tella, wants to know.

“This is where a look at the bigger picture might help,” I say. “Clan Vizsla has always lived on _Manda’yaim_ herself until the end of their rule. After that, they settled on different planets, all of them also inhabited by clans that do not belong to their house. They may have rallied the clans of their house to their name, but they do not have an actual seat of power. To them, that place has always been the Sundari palace. So, if Vizsla loses enough ground, he’ll most likely won’t put more effort into subduing the remaining systems but will more likely draw his remaining troops to _Manda’yaim_ to hold the planet. Intelligence shows that he turned Concordia into a mining base. The beskar is shipped solely to Sundari, but not to other systems. He is fortifying himself on Mandalore.”

“You think he’d leave us be to protect himself?”

“Yes,” Tobias agrees. “If Tor loses Sundari, he loses this war. He has no other place to go. He can’t do what we did and let Sundari fall to us. He can’t do what Satine does and go from place to place to uphold morale and loyalty. It only works because Satine is a pacifist. The clans of House Vizsla follow Tor’s lead because he displayed enough strength. Take that away, and this war will be over.”

Tella looks thoughtful, but no longer as unconvinced as before.

“What planets are we talking about?” someone else asks. “Vorpa’ya has already fallen to the Vizslas. Breshig is out of the question, as Tella has just stated. The same goes for us here on Krownest. We barely escaped with our lives the first time Count Wren attacked us. If he finds us again, we will not make it out alive.”

“Even more of a reason to end this as quickly as possible,” Ida chimes in.

“So,” Tella says. “What planets, then? Cheravh, obviously. And I’ll take it Kalevala, too.”

“And Ordo,” Lincoln adds. “I want those _aruetiise_ off my planet.”

“Zanbar is out, I’m afraid,” a young man says. I think he is not much older than I am. “The Vizslas have always had a strong presence here, and we are a largely pacifist community. We are only surviving because we are good at hiding.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Sookie Cadera says. “But given the choice between trying to get those _aruetiise_ off my planet and this war dragging on for maybe years, I’ll take the first option.”

I hear Tella sigh.

“Very well, then,” she says. “I cannot aid you, Tobias. But you have my support.”

With Tella agreeing, the others that looked reluctant now also nod their heads. I can feel the tension in the room lessen considerably.

“We need a time frame, then,” Ansgar Rodarch says. “This needs to be as concerted as possible.”

“Three months,” Gareth says, his voice certain, and all eyes are suddenly on him. There is a concentrated look on his face, his eyes focusing on a point somewhere in the middle of the tactical station, like he can see something the rest of us cannot.

“Why three months?” Roland asks.

Gareth doesn’t look up; his eyes are still focused on something else.

“In three months, Kalevala will be covered in snow. If we want to break the sieges on the stronghold and Naak, that is the time to do it. On Ordo, the sandstorms will reach their peak in about three months, giving an advantage to the planet’s clans over the foreign Vizslas. Cheravh’s eastern regions, where the largest part of its Vizsla population is settled, will be prone to floods. And on Hrthging, the Monsoon season will start.”

We are all silent, staring at Gareth.

“Now that’s what I call a lucky coincidence,” Roland says into the quiet, rubbing his hands together. Everybody else starts to mumble excitedly.

“Alright, then,” _ba’vodu_ says. “Three months.”

“Three months,” the others echo.

“It is agreed, then,” Tobias says, the yellow flecks in his green eyes shining almost menacingly in the dim light of the tactical station. “We take back what is ours, and then, we will come for Tor Vizsla.”

###

It is midday now, and I sit in the mess tent with Fenn and Gareth. _Ba’vodu_ has called another meeting for this afternoon to discuss how we want to proceed here on Kalevala. And since we all believe that that meeting might take a while, we are eating a rather large portion of whatever it is the kitchen has come up with. Food in the mountains is a lot less pleasant than the food was while we were still in the woods.

We eat in silence for a while. Then Fenn’s curiosity gets the better of him.

“Gareth?” he asks.

“Mm?”

“How do you know so much about the other planets?”

Gareth shrugs. “I was born on Kalevala. Bo-Katan’s grandmother was from Hrthging, and I learned a lot about that planet from her. There are several Protectors who originate from Ordo and talk about it.”

“And Cheravh?”

“Some random detail I picked up once. Kind of like Roland said: lucky coincidence.”

I know Fenn wants to ask more questions; and I, too, am curious. But Gareth’s tone suggests that more questions would not be welcome, so Fenn leaves it be.

Instead, he gets up.

“I’m going to get some caf. Anyone else want some?”

“Yes, please,” I answer.

“Tea,” Gareth says.

Fenn walks off toward the food counter, leaving Gareth and me alone at the table.

“Gareth?”

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends.”

“About my grandmother’s journals.”

Gareth cocks his head and sighs, but then shrugs. “If I can answer it.”

“_Ba’vodu_ said that he found her journals painful. Is it strange that I don’t?”

Gareth grimaces slightly, but than his face becomes thoughtful.

“I don’t know if it is _strange_. I think it’s more because you can look at it from a different perspective. Tobias experienced much of it himself. His own experience or view of some situations probably was very different than his mother’s.”

“Like what?”

“Take your grandparents’ marriage, for example. I think Tobias always knew that his parents weren’t in love, that it was a purely political match. But I don’t think he knew how caged his mother felt sometimes, how she thought of leaving if it wouldn’t have meant having to leave her children. That is not something a child wants to learn about a parent. And it is something that Bo-Katan kept largely to herself.”

“But you knew.”

Gareth shrugs. “Well, first, it was my job to know. I was her Protector, after all. But you don’t spend every day over the course of twenty years with someone and not know them.”

My lips twitch into a small smile. “No, I guess not.”

Gareth smiles back, but then his face becomes serious again. “You’ve read large parts of Bo-Katan’s journal. I guess you haven’t read much of Tobias’ journal yet.”

I shake my head. “No. Tobias sorted the entries in chronological order. Some things overlap, but it’s been mostly _ba’buir_’s entries so far. But…”

Gareth raises an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“I don’t know…”

“He writes about your mother,” Gareth says, almost matter-of-factly, but with a hint of sadness to it.

I nod. “Yes,” I confess. “It sounds like he liked her. A lot. He…thought he might be in love with her.”

Gareth sighs and nods. “I think, in a way, he was.”

I open my mouth to ask more questions, but Gareth raises a hand and stops me.

“These things are not for me to tell, _ad’ika_,” he says. “Keep reading. And if you have questions, ask Tobias. He wouldn’t have given you the journals if he wasn’t prepared to give you answers.”

I nod, as Fenn comes back with the caf and tea. We sip the hot drinks in silence, until it is time for the meeting.

###

This meeting is crowded, too. Next to us, all the other commanders on Kalevala are present via holo feed. A map of the continent is displayed over the tactical station. The stronghold and Naak are displayed as purple dots, our groups as blue ones, and the Vizslas red.

Tobias explains the consensus of this morning to the other commanders, who are generally nodding.

“We’ll have to make sure that we have reduced the Vizsla numbers to a point where they are no longer a threat to us,” one of the commanders says. “If we try to break the sieges while we have to worry that we are attacked from behind, we might not be successful.”

“I agree,” says another. “And as it will be a concerted effort between the planets, this needs to be a concerted effort between our groups.”

Heads are nodded in agreement.

“We need to find the right balance between preparations and taking out the remaining Vizslas,” I think out loud.

“Indeed,” Gareth adds. “But we are lucky in that department. Our last enemy contact has been two weeks ago. After that, nothing. Our scouts have not seen a single Vizsla since. Vheika’s group further south in the mountains hasn’t seen any Vizslas either. There is nothing here that seems to interest them. If that is the case, and the Vizslas stay away from the mountains, we could move a lot of equipment along the passages almost all the way to the stronghold undetected.”

A woman in black and gold armor nods her head. “I agree,” she says. “We have already stored a lot of equipment up here, mostly weapons and such. We could move it further north until we reach the stronghold.”

“We don’t have that much in the way of weapons,” Ida says. “But we have large stocks of food and medical supplies.”

“Fits perfectly, then,” the woman, Vheika, I guess, answers with a smirk.

“We could do the same for Naak,” a man who looks a lot like Roland says. Maybe the brother he talked about? “There are two groups of us around here who just got rid of the Vizslas in our areas. We could take over the supplies while the rest deals with the groups out in the open.”

“Sounds good to me,” someone else replies. “What’s the timeframe for this again?”

“Three months,” Tobias answers.

The man nods. “The Vizslas will be cold and miserable. They might even try to take the stronghold and Naak again, just to get out of the snow.”

“We’ll need to get word to Naak and the stronghold,” some else puts in. “Give them time to prepare on their end.”

“That could be risky,” Ruu says. “We must assume all transmissions are monitored. Even if we send an encrypted message; if we send it too early, we give the Vizslas time to decrypt it, ruining all our efforts.”

“Or we find something our people understand, but that is utterly useless to the Vizslas, like the bird call we used to signal the Vizslas arrival at our first camp,” I say. “Like a code word or something.”

Gareth perks up at that. “I might have something in that direction,” he says. “I’ll have to check it first, though.”

Tobias nods. “Alright. That makes four groups who manage supplies while the rest takes out the remaining Vizsla search groups. This planet is our home. It is time we take it back.”

###

The meeting continues for several more hours as details are hatched out. By nightfall, everything is planned out as best as possible. The other commanders are signing off, leaving our usual round in the now dark tent.

“Can I ask what you have in mind for the signal?” Ruu asks Gareth after everyone else is gone.

Gareth chuckles. “I’ll show you over dinner. I’m famished. Let’s all go and eat.”

The signal, as it turns out, is a picture. Taken in the yard of the stronghold some thirty-five years ago. It shows a group of kids and a group of adults, all bundled up, knee-deep in snow, throwing snowballs at each other.

“I think Neeka took it,” Gareth explains. “It had snowed a lot during the night, and the next morning, after breakfast, everyone was suddenly in the yard. It was wild. Kids versus adults, Kryze warriors against Protectors…I think I even saw a few New Mandalorians throwing snowballs in earnest, becoming rather competitive.”

“I remember that!” Tobias says. “It was fun.”

Then Gareth starts pointing at different people. “That’s Adonai,” he says. “And Tobias and Alanna. She wasn’t even five, but you couldn’t stop her.”

“I remember that, too,” Roland suddenly says. “I was there. Here, that’s me,” he says, pointing to a figure further in the back. “We were talking trade with his Grace.”

Gareth nods. “Yes, Duke Argaeus was home that week. Here, that’s him.”

I look at the picture. It’s not that I’ve never seen a picture of my grandfather, but that was all he was to me; a man in a picture. With what I know about his life now through _ba’buir_’s eyes, I wonder…But maybe Gareth and Tobias are right. Maybe the journals are a personal account and Bo-Katan Cadera’s view of him was biased. In this picture, he looks friendly, a big grin on his face, his blonde hair in slight disarray. He actually looks like he’s having fun. Maybe it was his price for ruling; that things like these were an exception, something only tasted and never fully lived.

“There’s you,” Tobias says, pointing at the picture, and smiling up at Gareth. “And there’s _buir_.”

“Stars,” Roland mutters, “look how young we all were.”

Everyone around the table chuckles, until Ruu lets out a loud yawn.

“Well, that’s it for me,” she says, getting up.

“Yeah, me, too,” Ida says, almost unable to stifle a yawn herself.

“I guess we should all call it a night,” Tobias says. “There is more planning to do tomorrow.”

People almost groan. Almost. Tobias looks at Roland and grins.

“You know what?” he asks. “Let’s do Roland a favor and not meet too early. Let’s say ten.”

Surprised and appreciated sounds are made around the table, followed by more yawning.

As we leave the mess tent, _ba’vodu_ holds me back a moment.

“_Bo’ika_?”

“Yes?”

“I’m afraid the late hour for the meeting was not only a favor for Roland,” he says, his voice low so only I can hear. “You don’t mind getting up a little earlier, do you?”

Normally, I’d say that I didn’t. But since I could also spend the few extra hours in bed with Fenn…But I sense that it is important to _ba’vodu_, so I tell him that it’s no problem at all.

“Thank you, _Bo’ika_,” he says, sounding sincere. “We’ll meet an hour before sunrise.”

###

Back in our own tent, Fenn and I strip down to our underwear while I tell him about _ba’vodu_’s request.

Fenn just shrugs. “He’s your uncle,” he says matter-of-factly. “Probably just some family thing.”

“Maybe,” I answer, though I sound pondering to my own ears. I wonder if it has something to do with what Gareth and I talked about at lunch.

I let out a long sigh and turn to the small table that has a mirror on it. I take the headband off, letting my hair fall forward, and start brushing it.

When I am done, I am about to turn toward the bed, but don’t get far. Fenn is snaking his arms around my middle from behind and leans in to nuzzle at my neck right below my ear.

“I could take your mind off it by continuing where we left off this morning,” he murmurs against my skin.

I smile. “Now that sounds like a very good idea to me,” I answer.

I close my eyes and let me head fall back against Fenn’s shoulder, just like this morning, as Fenn begins to lay a new line of kisses along my neck. And just like this morning, he pushes the strap of my bra off my shoulder, kissing all the way to the shoulder joint before he moves back up. When he’s back at my ear, he shifts, and does the same on the other side.

I am not inexperienced, but there is a startling difference between the intimacies I shared with Jonah Kellborn and those I share with Fenn. Not that Jonah wasn’t careful or considered, but it always boiled down to sex. Not that I wasn’t all for it. I was barely seventeen and all my hormones demanded of me was to get into anything resembling a horizontal position with Jonah as often as possible.

But with Fenn…I never knew that a few light kisses on my skin could make me lose any train of thought, make my heart beat faster and make my breathing fast and uneven. I realize there _is_ a word to describe this: sensual.

Fenn pushes the other bra strap away, too, and as he moves his lips slowly back up toward my ear, he opens the clasp behind my back. He gently pushes the straps down my arms until the bra falls to the floor with a soft thud.

I turn my head a little and grin. “Well that is a very sneaky way to get a lady naked,” I say.

“Totally worth it,” Fenn replies, and plants his lips on mine. We keep kissing, and after a while, Fenn’s tongue finds its way into my mouth. His hands ghost along my arms and my sides until, suddenly, they find my breasts.

His large hands can cover my small breasts easily. Engulfed in his warm and slightly callused hands, Fenn gives them a not so gentle squeeze that has me gasp into his mouth.

“To hard?” he asks against my lips.

I shake my head a little. “Hell no,” I answer, my voice low and raspy, and I move my left hand to the back of his neck to pull his lips back to mine.

Fenn keeps kneading my breasts, now and then giving them a firm squeeze. My hardened nipples find their way between his thumb and middle finger; my breath becoming pants as he roles them between his fingers, pulls at them, and pinches them; the slightest pressure making my nerve endings tingle until a writhe under his touch.

After stars now how long, Fenn moves his left hand to my right beast as his right hand starts trailing down my stomach. He hesitates when he reaches my underwear.

“Don’t stop,” I manage to get out between panting breaths and heated kisses.

Fenn obeys, and slips his hand below my waistband. His fingers find my clit and he starts rubbing it in slow circles.

It is almost too much. My panting breaths turn into needy whimpers, and there is a part of me that longs for a quick release. But that part is silenced quickly by the much bigger part of me that wants this to play out, as I have never experienced such arousal from just being touched.

Fenn’s fingers move a little further, grazing along my lower lips.

“_Fierfek_, you’re wet,” Fenn almost growls against my neck, and I huff out a laugh.

“Well, that is all your doing, really,” I manage to say, before my voice becomes nothing more than a series of moans again.

“I want to taste you,” Fenn whispers.

I have a vague idea of what he means by that. Ruu’s nieces are very talkative when it comes to their sexual endeavors, and one of them said something about there being hardly anything better than heaving a boy’s mouth between your legs.

“Yes,” I huff out breathlessly.

“Turn around,” Fenn tells me, and I do. I lean back against the table, my fingers gripping the edge for support.

Fenn kisses me again, and then he moves his lips down along my throat, over my chest and breasts, sucking hard on a nipple on his way down. He starts to kneel down then, kissing over my stomach until he reaches my underwear. Slowly, he hooks his fingers into the waistband, and pulls them down.

I step out of them, and before I can lower my left leg back to the ground, Fenn curls his fingers around my ankle. He nuzzles along my calf and up over my knee. He rests my leg on his shoulder as he keeps going up, placing soft kisses along the inside of my thigh. And then-

“_Fierfek_,” I moan, as he reaches my center and his lips close around my already throbbing bud.

I feel him grin against me; and then I almost collapse as he flicks his tongue over my exposed parts. My breath hitches, just as Fenn lets out a strangled gasp himself.

And then all I can do is hold on to the table for dear life, as Fenn explores me with his tongue, spreading my lips with short licks until his tongue finds my entrance.

His left hand had been holding my hip until now, but now Fenn moves it back up until he finds a breast. Just when I think that this is the greatest height of arousal I have ever felt, his right hand, curled around my left thigh until now, moves further up, his fingers tracing the outside of my thigh, then along my _shebs_, and, finally, along my wet folds. His middle finger finds my entrance, and he slowly starts to push it inside me. I moan violently and uncontrolled, as Fenn groans against my clit.

My eyes fall closed and let my head fall back as Fenn starts to rhythmically move his finger up and down, pushing inside me and then almost letting it slip out again, just to push a little further the next time. Together with his tongue and his mouth on my clit and his other hand pinching hard at my nipple, the tension inside me builds until it is almost painful.

And then, release washes over me in crashing waves. I cry out as the orgasm hits me, my hips bucking against Fenn’s face and my insides clamping down around his finger.

As the waves slowly subside, my legs start shaking. Fenn moves away a little and stands back up, and all I can do is fall forward into his arms. My breath still comes in labored gasps as I try to force my heart to slow down. With my ear pressed against Fenn’s bared chest, I can hear his own heart beating almost as fast as mine.

“You alright?” Fenn asks, his lips brushing against my forehead.

I nod and grin broadly against his chest. “Never better.”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

We settle in our sleeping bags that we have connected and cuddle up to each other.

I wonder if there is anything I should say to Fenn, but the soft fabric inside the sleeping bag, Fenn’s warmth and the post-orgasm haze win, and I fall asleep before I know it.

###

When I emerge from the tent the next morning, fully armored and with my night vision on, _ba’vodu_ is already waiting for me.

We walk together in silence; out of the camp and then up a small, winding path that leads even higher into the mountains. After about half an hour, the path leads to a small plateau. _Ba’vodu_ walks almost to the edge and then sits down. I follow, sitting down beside him.

We take our helmets off, letting the cold, fresh air hit our face.

“It’s a bit harder to breathe,” I say, frowning.

“Yeah, we’re higher up now. Oxygen levels are lower here. But it’s still fine as long as we’re not overexerting ourselves.”

I nod. But the suspense and secrecy of this is making me edgy, so I ask.

“Why are we up here?”

_Ba’vodu_ turns his head to look at me, though I can barely see him in the dark.

“Two reasons,” he says. “One, the sunrise from up here is something else. And two…I know you must have reached the part of the journals about a year before your grandmother’s death. And I would think that there are things written in them you might have a lot of questions about.”

I nod. “I do, actually. Did Gareth talk to you?”

“No. Did you talk to him?”

“I did,” I admit. “But he said it’s not for him to tell and if I had questions, I should ask you.”

“So, what do you want to know?”

I realize that part of why _ba’vodu_ has chosen the early hours of the morning before sunrise is that because we can’t see each other’s faces very well. I don’t know if I could ask my questions if I had to look him straight in the eye. So, I take a deep breath.

“You were in love with my mother.” Well, not a question really, but well…

I hear _ba’vodu_ sigh. “Yes, I was.”

“Did you know back then? That she would marry Father?”

“No,” he answers. “And neither did she. We were like magnets; opposites attracting each other. And we were young, not much older than you are right now. We…ignored the possibility that there might be more to her family’s frequent visits to Sundari than just trade negotiations.”

“How far-“ I begin, but stop. I’m not sure I want to know.

“Not far,” Tobias answers quickly. “After a dinner, I walked her to her room, ordering the Protectors not to follow. I don’t think I ever needed as much courage for anything than I needed to lean down an kiss her. It was as far as we got.”

_Ba’vodu_ is silent for a moment, then I hear him sigh. “The next morning, my father, Adonai, Lord Jennis and Elia spend a long time in my father’s study. It was the meeting that resulted in Adonai’s and Elia’s engagement.”

“But…” I begin, frowning. “If Mother was in love with you, why would she agree to marry Father just the next morning?”

_Ba’vodu_ sighs again.

“Describe your mother’s personality, _Bo’ika_, as you remember it.”

“She was smart,” I say. “Caring. Loving.” And then I pause. “Dutiful.”

Tobias nods. “Yes. Elia was dutiful. To her family, her clan, and her house. Clan Jennis was enormously influential among the New Mandalorians, and Elia had all the qualities that would make her an excellent wife to the next _Mand’alor_. One of those qualities was to put her own wishes aside for the welfare of her clan and house.”

I want to ask more questions, but _ba’vodu_ continues on his own.

“I, on the other hand…I was devastated. I didn’t want to confront Elia; I was afraid of what she might say. But I did confront Adonai. I felt betrayed by him, and the words we exchanged were…bitter, hurtful. I was so angry. At one point of that argument, I got so mad that I punched him in the face. I broke his nose.

“My Father was furious. But not even _buir_ managed to talk me down. In the end, Father send me home to Kalevala. Gareth volunteered to accompany me home under the pretense to make sure I didn’t do anything more foolish than I already had. Well…half a pretense, probably. Next to Father and _buir_, Gareth had been the only person to ever set rules and boundaries for me. And who made sure I didn’t overstep them.

“When we arrived home, he set only one rule. _Don’t to anything foolish._ And then, he let me be for a while. I didn’t leave my room for a few days, to be honest. I ate, I slept, I watched crappy _osik_ on the net. During those days, all the anger only got worse. When I came back out, I went sparring. After only half an hour in the yard, Gareth dragged me into the house. I was seriously hurting my opponents, and he wasn’t having it. But I needed an outlet, and so we sparred in one of the private sparring rooms.

“Some people say anger makes you stronger, but I find it only makes you careless. Fighting Gareth that day, I think that was the first time I realized that Protectors are chosen for the exceptional skills. The longer that fight went, the sloppier I got, the more Gareth displayed what sheer focus, experience and skill can amount to.

“By the end of it, with my physical strength all but spend, the anger went away, leaving only the pain. I think it was also that day that I fully realized that Gareth had always been like a father to me. Because he didn’t leave me be then; he pulled me into an almost crushing embrace and did not let go.

“It took a few more weeks until I was ready to go back to Sundari. The first thing I did was apologize to Adonai, and then later to my parents. Elia and I…avoided talking. I wasn’t ready for it, and maybe she wasn’t either.

“And so, I watched them as they said their vows a few weeks later in the throne room in front of hundreds of witnesses. After that, they first spend some time on Vorpa’ya. Adonai wished for him and Elia to stay on Kalevala for a while after that. He said it was the best place to start and raise a family. Not that I disagreed with him; but I sure as _haran_ wasn’t going to stay on Kalevala and watch them. So, Adonai and I would trade places. He would return to Kalevala, and I would stay with Father in Sundari.

“Just before Adonai returned, _buir_, Gareth, Alanna and I went on a hunting trip far out north.”

I gape. “The trip _ba’buir_ died.”

“Yes.”

_Ba’vodu_’s story has left me reeling and confused, but I sense the old pain welling up in him, and instinctively reach for his hand.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it, though for what, I don’t really know.

“Don’t be,” he answers, releasing me hand only to put his arm around my shoulder and to pull me into his side. “It did hurt back then, but in retrospect, it was better that way. Your parents were a much better match in the long run than Elia and I would have ever been. And though they might have married out of a sense of duty, they were not like our parents. They developed what could be described as a deep friendship that eventually evolved into love. Regardless of the circumstances, _Bo’ika_, your parents were very happy together.”

I sigh, leaning a bit closer into _ba’vodu_’s side. “Thank you,” I say. “For telling me. All of it.”

At that, _ba’vodu_ sighs. “There is more,” he says. “But not today.”

I wonder what else can possibly be there, and I almost ask. But maybe there is only so much _ba’vodu_ can talk about at once, so I leave it be.

We sit in silence after that, watching the horizon slowly turning from black, to purple, to red and then, like nothing I have ever seen, the sun rising slowly over the horizon, dousing the land below in shades of greens and browns and yellows.

“Wow,” I whisper, and _ba’vodu_ chuckles.

“Told you.”

We keep watching as the sun slowly makes her way up, chasing away the patches of mist that cling to some of the fields and woods. The world still quiet, holding its breath before the storm that will follow.

###

** _From the journal of Bo-Katan Cadera_ **

_I remember exactly how it felt to have to let Adonai go with his father. The prospect of him returning to Kalevala, of him actually living here, should fill me with happiness. And it does. But on the other hand, my heart breaks for Tobias. Tobias, Adonai and Elia under one roof…that would be a bad idea. So, Tobias has chosen to move to the Sundari palace for the time being._

_It’s not a bad idea in general. It would be a chance for him to better connect to his father, to see more of the sector and to generally broaden his education._

_But still…to see another child leave, especially under the circumstances…_

_We have decided to go on a hunting trip before he leaves. Just Tobias, Alanna, Gareth and I. A long one, with stops at our favorite places. It will do all of us good to get out for a while. All this wedding business is giving me quite a headache._

###

** _From the journal of Tobias Kryze_ **

_Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum._

_Buir. _I can’t write anything else. Not today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Bo-Katan Cadera, that you came into my mind as a character in this story, and that I was allowed to get a brief glimps into your life.
> 
> _Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum._ \- I am alive, but you are gone. I remember you, so you are eternal.


	20. From within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It starts out fluffy and then turns angsty and violent, so be warned.

** _From the journal of Tobias Kryze_ **

_It is all so different these days. Adonai and Elia’s wedding and buir’s death have changed everything. Adonai and Elia are on Kalevala now and I am here in Sundari. Gareth has stayed on Kalevala, too, as Elia’s Protector. Though I think he stays to be able to keep an eye on Alanna. And I sit here, in these halls of glass and steel, spending more than just a few days at a time with Father._

_Even though my parents were never in love, Father mourns buir’s death. I asked him about it, and he said that despite it all, they had been married for more than twenty years, and that you can miss your spouse even if it wasn’t love. ‘She was a smart and beautiful woman who gave me three children I do love, and whose wit, strength and friendship I miss very much.’ Those were Father’s words, and I think it was the most open and vulnerable he has ever been with me in my life._

_Father also seems to sense that the best thing he can do for me right now is to keep me occupied. He has given me several smaller tasks that I have apparently completed to his satisfaction. Today, we talked about the future. About what will happen once Adonai succeeds him. Father said that Adonai will always have to balance the interests of the traditionalists with those of the New Mandalorians. To be the strong ruler one the one hand, and the merciful one on the other; an almost impossible task._

_He also said that this conundrum will define my position in the greater scheme of things. That it might fall to me to deal with certain situations quietly and efficiently, while Adonai can be the statesman._

_He is not wrong; there is much going on behind the façade of the more or less peaceful coexistence between the different factions. It feels more like a truce than actual peace. Favor one of the other, and we might have a civil war on our hands that could consume Mandalore and deliver us to the brink of extinction._

###

If I ever wondered why we would need three months to move equipment from where our camp is right now all the way to the stronghold…I know better now. The paths – if there are paths – are narrow, steep, and treacherous. We can only move about during the day, and the progress is antagonizingly slow. On a good day, we manage to cover about ten kilometers and not a step more.

Despite no Vizslas in sight for now, we still send out groups to scout ahead, just to be sure. My current group is made up of Roland, Fenn, my second cousin Tallin, Ruu’s grand-niece A’leola, and one of Roland’s men, Tark. We usually start together, then split into groups of two, following different routes. Sometimes we meet back up after only a few hours, sometimes after two or three days, depending on where we are and the terrain we’re in.

Up here in the mountains, the temperatures have already dropped considerably, and the howling winds are not making it any more comfortable. On the contrary. The wind is tugging and tarring at us, and I sometimes need all my concentration to keep walking in a more or less straight line.

It’s one of the reasons why there is hardly any talk. Walking and talking at the same time is almost impossible. And at night, when we all flop down in front of a fire dead tired, no one is really up for chit-chat. We eat, we sleep, we keep going.

I guess we only manage because we all know that it will soon be over, one way or the other. We’ll either manage to break the sieges and defeat the Vizslas, or we’ll all be dead in a matter of weeks.

And if we win…If we win, it’ll be just the beginning of the end. If the plan works, and we manage to take back several planets, there’s still _Manda’yaim_ to reclaim. Even if Father was right all those months ago, and Sundari is easier to take than to hold, it’ll not be easy. Vizsla is prepared in a way we were not. He’ll be waiting for us.

And after that? Should we actually retake Sundari and dethrone Tor Vizsla, what then? What will come after? Sometimes, it feels like nobody thinks that far ahead. Or at least, nobody talks about it. I am quite sure that _ba’vodu_ has thought about what comes after. But there are too many variables, there is too much at stake to make any probable prediction.

And the greatest unknown in this is Satine. She was groomed for a role that no longer is hers to fill. To be the assistant in Dorian’s rule. Now – if she survives – she’ll be the ruler. And maybe, for the first time, we all realize that we no longer truly know her; that we can no longer anticipate what she will do. She has been away from Mandalore for too long. And now especially, as those Jedi of hers are the ones she is closest to.

Be that as it may; it is almost futile to try to construct possible futures for Mandalore when it is not even clear that we will see the next spring.

###

Fenn and I have been walking along a narrow, high-up path all day with nothing in sight except the bleak face of the eastern slopes of some mountain. Ahead of us, we could see the high peak of Kale mountain looming in the distance. But now, in the late afternoon, the mountain is covered in clouds, its snowy peak completely hidden.

After walking for several hours on end, Fenn and I decide to take a short break. We take our helmets off; the cold and damp air hitting our faces, making the cold seep into our bones in an instant.

We both drink something in silence; we just want this day to be over and reunite with the group.

As if on cue, my comm crackles.

“Bo, this is A’leola. Please come in.”

I lift the comm to my lips. “This is Bo-Katan. Everything alright?”

“Not really,” she answers. “There seems to have been a sort of land slide. Our path is completely blocked. We’ll have to find a way around. But it’ll start to get dark soon, and we don’t want to run around not seeing anything. We’re thinking about making camp about two kilometers back. It’s not ideal, but it would be protected from the wind and at least warm enough to spend the night.”

“Are you sure there is no way around?”

“Nothing that looks like we could make it before nightfall. At least here I know where we could camp for the night.”

I grimace. “Alright,” I agree, though reluctantly. I have a bad feeling about this. But I’m not going to say anything. I have to trust their judgement of the situation. “Forward your position when you get there. Stay warm.”

“You too. See you tomorrow.”

The comm goes dead, and I look at Fenn.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he says, his brows knotted in concern.

“Yeah, me too,” I admit. “But it’s still better than having them climb around somewhere in the dark and fall to their deaths.”

Fenn makes an affirmative noise.

Just as I want to suggest that we keep going, my comm beeps again.

I answer with an “Anything else, A’leola?”

There are a few seconds of silence. Then I hear Roland’s voice.

“Sorry, just us.”

“Sorry, I just talked to A’leola. They are stuck and won’t make it to the meeting point tonight.”

“Ahem…well…”

“Don’t tell me…”

“Well, we kind of had a run in with a mountain _kad’la edee_. We managed to kill it in the end, but not before it managed to sink its teeth into Tark’s leg. He lost a lot of blood. Nothing bacta couldn’t fix, but we’re not going anywhere else tonight, either.”

“Fierfek. How’s he doing?”

“I’m fine!” I hear over the comm.

“Yeah, well,” Roland says, “as fine as can be anyway. It’s not like he’s going to die.”

I look at Fenn again; his expression somewhere between worried and amused.

“Alright,” I say. “Make sure you stay warm. Comm if you need help.”

“Will do,” Roland says, sounding perfectly at ease. “It’s our fault, really, since we walked right past the beast’s den. Then again, that den is empty now, and we can stay there for the night. Looks like it’s going to rain.”

Fenn and I look up at the gray sky. The clouds do look dark and heavy.

“Yeah, probably,” I agree, and immediately think of Tallin and A’leola, who are probably not near any real shelter for the night. But I can’t change that right now.

“Make sure you reach the meeting point,” Roland tells us. “There is shelter there. You’ll need it.”

“Yeah, we’ll get there.”

“Alright then. See you guys tomorrow. We’ll call in when we have an ETA.”

“Alright,” I agree. “See you tomorrow.”

The comm goes dead again, though I keep looking at it for another moment. Then I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.

“Well, so much for that…”

Fenn makes a non-committal noise. “I guess so.”

I look up at the sky again. Up here, the clouds are moving fast, the gray mass rolling toward us.

“Let’s go,” I say. “It really looks like it’s going to rain and get dark quickly. I’d rather spend the night at our destination than somewhere out here.”

“Yeah, me too,” Fenn agrees.

###

Only twenty minutes later, and it’s pouring. The raindrops are coming down like small projectiles; the rushing sound of the rain mixing with the constant clanging of the drops hitting _beskar_. The rain seeps through our shirts and pants, the cold slowly creeping into our bones. But we keep walking anyway; the promise of shelter, warmth and food the only thought I allow in my head.

I let the path show up on my HUD. We’re almost there, only a few more minutes. They are some of the longest minutes I’ve ever endured.

After what feels like an eternity, we finally reach our destination. It doesn’t look like there is shelter from the outside. But there is a small crevasse in the sheer face of the mountain, the HUD indicating that there is a small cave system behind it.

Fenn and I squeeze through the small opening. There is a small cave right there, but the HUD indicates that there is a slightly larger one just a few meters further in. We squeeze through another narrow passageway and end up in a cave we can at least stand in and that’s large enough to put the sleeping bags on the floor and store our belongings.

In the light of hour helmet flashlights, we first put the mats and sleeping bags on the floor. Then Fenn pulls the heating lamp out of his backpack, putting it up in front of our sleeping bags and turns it on.

“We might have to keep that on during the night,” he says.

“That’s fine,” I answer. “I brought additional energy packs.”

“Good thinking.”

I take my helmet off and smile at him.

“Let’s get out of the wet clothes and eat something,” I say.

Fenn nods, and we both start to take off our armor, carefully stacking the plates. Good thing armor made from _beskar_ doesn’t rust. We also peel off the underclothes, as those are completely drenched, too. The compression suits are damp, too, but it is still far too cold in the cave to take them off yet.

We eat in silence for a while, and my thoughts drift to the others. Roland and Tark are probably alright in that _kad’la edee _den. Not the most ideal place, but probably dry. And they have a heating lamp with them, too, so they’ll probably be warm enough for the night.

But Tallin and A’leola?

“They’ll be fine,” Fenn says into the quiet.

“Sorry?”

“Tallin and A’leola,” he clarifies. “They have a heating lamp and if they followed your uncle’s instructions, they have one of these super lightweight emergency tents. Not the most comfortable, but it’ll at least keep the wind and rain out. And unlike Tark, they are not injured.”

I nod. “Yeah, you’re right,” I answer, and I do feel considerably better. “And it’s just one night. They’ll manage.”

“Yes, they will.”

I nibble a bit more at the ration pack; but if I’m honest, I’m just tired. Tired and wet and cold.

“Fenn?”

“Mm?”

“Can we zip the sleeping bags together?”

“Sure.”

“I’m cold.”

“Yeah, me too.”

We smile at each other.

After finishing our meager supper, we rearrange the thermal mats and sleeping bags, zipping them together to get one big sleeping bag for the both of us.

We start to undress, but we both seem to drag out the process. Then I make up my mind.

“You know,” I begin. “We’re actually quite lucky. If the others were here, we’d have to keep our wet underwear on. But like this, we don’t really have to care, do we? We can just cuddle up in the sleeping bag and with no one the wiser.”

Fenn looks at me, and smiles. “Yeah,” he says, and it looks like he’s blushing, though it’s hard to tell in the dim, orange light from the heating lamp. “That is pretty nice.”

I give Fenn a half smile and shake my head.

We strip down until we are naked. It’s a sight we are used to by now, but it never gets old. But right now, we are cold and wet and slightly miserable; and while I appreciate the sight, I have no longing for any intimacies beyond the warmth and comfort of his arms around me.

It seems to be the same for Fenn, because he makes no move to embrace me or kiss me. Instead, he motions for me to get in the sleeping bag first.

He climbs in after me; and after a little bit of shuffling around, we find a comfortable position. My back is pressed into his front, and his arm is curled around me, holding me tight against him.

We both shiver from the bone-deep cold. But after a while, the shivering becomes less, and finally stops. Warmth is beginning to bloom in my stomach, slowly radiating outwards into my limbs.

My wrist comm beeps, and I reluctantly weasel an arm out of the warmth to grab it. Tallin and A’leola have forwarded their position as planned. I put the comm back and snuggle even closer to Fenn.

I hear Fenn inhale deeply and let out a content sigh.

“Good night, Bo,” he whispers, sounding sleepy.

“Good night,” I whisper back, and let his warmth pull me into sleep.

###

I don’t know what time it is, only that my body is slowly waking up while my mind is still almost asleep. I seem to have turned some time during the night. Fenn’s arm is still around me, but my nose is now pressed into his chest. Maybe that’s why I woke up? Maybe it’s the soft hairs on his chest tickling my nose.

Despite the circumstances, I feel content. With my eyes still closed, I inhale deeply, letting Fenn’s scent fill my nose. The exhale is more of a purring sigh as I snuggle even closer. I drape my arm and leg around Fenn, pulling him as close as possible.

I don’t know if I have ever been in a state quite like this before. Half awake and half asleep. It feels like my consciousness is _sluggy_, with no coherent thought forming in my mind. But my body seems to move on its own account, almost like it is on autopilot.

My hand that is now resting on the small of Fenn’s back seems to have a life of its own, slowly drawing circles on his soft skin. I also seem to have lost any control over my lips as they start to put feather-light kisses on Fenn’s chest.

Even though he’s still asleep, Fenn’s body reacts unmistakably. His arm around me is drawing me closer until I am flush against him, and the hard length that is now pressing against me is making his wants and needs abundantly clear. I role my hips against his in a slow motion, drawing a low rumble from his chest.

For a while, that is all we do. Caressing the other while we slowly move in sync, enjoying the closeness and warmth in our half-awake state. Fenn’s lips eventually find mine, his kisses slow and gentle.

The longer we do this, the more I want him. Not just kissing. Not just wandering hands and mouths, no more explorations. My body is one fire by now, my breathing quick and shallow, the need for him inside me almost painful.

“_Ni copaani gar_,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. _I want you._

A low growl escapes Fenn’s mouth, muffled by the kisses we’re sharing. And then, he slowly rolls us over, carefully maneuvering himself on top of me, pressing me gently down onto the sleeping mat, settling between my legs. I pull me legs up, and for a few more moments, we keep moving in sync until it feels like the perfect fit.

I reach down between us, guiding him. I’m slippery wet but tight, but Fenn is careful. Slow. And then he’s fully inside me, and I could burst. For the first time, I understand that there is a difference between having sex with someone and making love to someone. Jonah and I had sex. But this? This is different. There is more to this than just the satisfaction of needs. As to what it is, I cannot say. I have no words for it. All I know is that it no longer feels like we are two single beings; only one.

By now, Fenn is moving faster, thrusting deeper. I still have my eyes closed; my ears filled with the sounds of labored breaths, the rustling of the sleeping bags, and our soft noises echoing around the cave.

And then, for a few moments, it feels like time just stops. Like the world around me is gone, dematerialized, and I along with it. For a moment, I lose my sense of self completely as orgasm washes over me in waves, one after the other.

The first things I notice afterwards is Fenn’s and my labored breathing, then Fenn’s weight pressing down on me. Not uncomfortable, on the contrary. I wrap my arms and legs around his back, holding him, burying my nose in the crook of his neck.

After a while, our breathing slows down, and Fenn rolls us back on our sides. No words are said; we only lie here, arms and legs intertwined, basking in the afterglow. And I realize that no words are needed.

I am exhausted and drowsy, but indescribably content, and I let Fenn’s warmth and rhythmic breathing pull me back to sleep.

###

Morning comes faster than I would have liked. We’re woken up by my beeping comm. It’s Roland and Tark, letting us know that they had a good night despite the circumstances and that the bacta has done its job. Tark can walk and they’ll reach us in about half an hour.

I sigh and start to crawl out of the sleeping bag. Fenn makes an effort to pull me back down, but I don’t let him. I want to be dressed before the others get here.

Fenn pushes himself up on his elbow looking at me.

“What?” I ask.

Fenn’s bright blue eyes are sparkling in the light of the heating lamp, an expression in them like he’s seen some kind of miracle.

“Did I dream?”

I have to smile while I shake my head. “No.”

Fenn opens his mouth to answer, but my comm beeps again, cutting him off. This time, it’s Tallin and A’leola.

“We’re about to pack up here and then make for the rendezvous point. We should be there in about an hour.”

“Alright,” I answer. “Tark and Roland are on their way, too. See you then.”

“See you!”

###

By the time Roland and Tark get here, Fenn and I have managed to get dressed, pack everything up and eat something.

Sometime during the night, the rain has stopped, and the wind has died down significantly. It is still cold, but no longer as miserable as yesterday afternoon.

As we still have time until the girls get here, we settle down, using the time to rest before the long walk back to camp.

“You know what I find strange,” Fenn says after a while. “You have huge mountain ranges here on Kalevala, but hardly any mines.”

Roland chuckles. “It would look strange, wouldn’t it?” he answers. “But no, it’s not strange at all. There isn’t that much here that is worth mining. There’s no _beskar_; you can only find that on _Manda’yaim_ and Concordia. And there are no fancy jewels, like lapis, like you’d find on Draboon. There are hardly any ores here. What can be found underground is barely enough to sustain the needs of the clans living here. No, Kalevala’s riches are not below its mountains. But its riches _are_ in its soil. The crops that help feed our sector, the wine and cloth we export to far regions, the woods that grow here that allow us to hunt.

“But alas, this war might cost us much of that, too. With the Vizslas starting to burn the forests and crops to draw us out, much will be lost.”

Roland heaves a long sigh. “But that is part of war,” he continues. “There are no wars without casualties.”

We are all silent for a while. I ponder Roland’s words. I have lost in this war. My brother, my father. And, in a way, my other siblings, too. But I have also gained. I have found belonging, purpose, friendship. Maybe even love. I feel free in a way I never have before. And I wonder what will become of all those things when this war is over.

The beeping of my comm’s chrono brings me back to the present. I get up and stretch, kneading my already stiff fingers, trying to bring warmth back to my extremities.

“Tallin and A’leola should be here in few minutes,” I say.

The other nod and start to get up and move about, too.

But the minutes tick by with no sign of the two. The uneasy feeling from yesterday starts to come back, mixed now with a sense of apprehension.

I move the comm to my lips.

“A’leola? This is Bo, come in.”

But there is no answer, not even static. I try again.

“A’leola, please come in.”

Again, nothing.

I switch the channel over to Tallin.

“Tallin, this is Bo. Do you copy?”

Still nothing.

“Maybe they have no reception?” Tark ventures, but Roland shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “Unless there’s a big thunderstorm, there shouldn’t be any interference up here. We should check it out.”

“I agree,” I say. “They had to find a way around a rockslide, maybe something happened.”

The other nod. We pack the rest of our things up quickly and start to walk.

###

Half an hour later, and we are standing at the point where the rockslide blocked the path completely.

“Yep, good thing they turned back,” Tark says. “Trying to pick a way over this while it’s raining, windy and getting dark would have been suicide.”

“Without a jetpack, it’s still suicide in this weather,” Roland says. “I doubt the girls tried it.”

“No, they wanted to find a way around,” Fenn adds.

I take a deep breath, pushing down the worry for my friends, trying to clear my had. Worrying won’t help them. If something happened, we need to find them. And in order to do that quickly, we must stay focused.

“Alright,” I say. “Roland, Tark, pick a way down the mountain and see if we can get across further down. Fenn and I will check uphill. Call in if you find an opportunity.”

“Yes, my lady.”

I watch Roland and Tark carefully pick a way downward, before I turn and start to climb up. And it is more of a climb that a walk, really. I remember practicing climbing on a climbing wall in the protector’s training complex. I don’t know how old I was. Seven, maybe? But I do remember trying to race Dorian to the top. But he was older, stronger and had more practice, so naturally, he always won. Until Mother had died.

The yard had been my refuge after her death, one of the few remaining constants. Dorian and Satine were always with Father and _ba’vodu_, Cal hid in the library, and I, I fought. It numbed the pain somewhat, I guess.

Only after Father was well enough again to take up most of his duties did Dorian return to his own training. That first day back, he cheekily asked me if I missed him beating me to the top. I told him I’d race him, and the loser would have to steal an uj cake from the kitchen and give it to the winner. Dorian was so sure he would win. After all, he always had. But something had changed during those weeks; _I_ had changed during those weeks. I had found a determination somewhere deep inside me. A determination to persevere. That night, I ate a whole stolen uj cake.

“There,” Fenn’s voice comes over my helmet comm, and I follow his pointed finger. “It might be possible to cross there.”

I nod. “Looks promising,” I agree. “Let’s check it out further before we have Roland and Tark climb all the way up here, though.”

We carefully make our way across. It’s not without a certain difficulty, but it is manageable.

We call Tark and Roland, and after several minutes, we finally see them make their way across the landslide, too.

Once we’re all safely on the other side, Roland takes a look around. After a few moments, he makes a grumbling sound, strangely distorted by his helmet.

“I don’t think they came through here,” he says, sounding resigned. “There is no sign of footprints or anything. But we went down pretty far and didn’t find a way across the slide.”

“Try to hail them again,” Tark suggests, and I do, but there is no answer.

“How many _kad’la edee _are there around here?” Fenn asks.

Roland shrugs. “They have very large territories. The one we ran across probably owned half this mountain at least. There shouldn’t be any others around. And it’s not their mating season. There is no reason for another one to walk around here.

“No,” he continues. “Something else must have happened. It doesn’t look like they even made it up here, so I don’t think something happened along the slide. And we haven’t seen any sign of them up to this point either. I think we should keep going until we find their camp.”

We all nod in agreement and slowly start to pick our way back down to the path again.

Fenn opens a private channel, so only I can hear him.

“You alright?” he asks, knowing that I am most likely not.

“No,” I answer truthfully. Why hide what I feel from him?

“I had a bad feeling yesterday,” I continue. “Maybe…I don’t know…”

“There is nothing we could have done last night,” Fenn says, sounding absolutely certain. “Imagine if we would have tried to pick our way across that landslide in the dark, hu? We’d be dead by now and absolutely no help to anyone.”

“I know,” I say, and I do. “I guess I just wish there would have been something to do.”

“Yeah, I know,” Fenn agrees. “I feel the same.”

###

Half an hour later, and we’ve almost reached Tallin’s and A’leola’s camp.

“Should be right around that outcrop over there,” I say, pointing toward a set of sharp rocks jutting out from the mountain side and onto the path.

We slow down. The uneasy feeling I’ve had all day pressing down on my chest like a ton of duracrete.

As we slowly approach the outcrop, we begin to hear voices. But it’s not the high-pitched, girly voice of Talling, or A’leola’s lower and melodic alto. No, it’s the voices of an older man and a younger boy.

“…here to salvage,” the older one says. “Pack up that heating lamp and see if we can still use that tent. The weather’ll only get worse as winter approaches.”

I stop dead in my tracks. So do the others.

Roland signals for us to move closer to the mountain face. He then switches from regular comms to the ad-hoc connection of the helmet comm system, making it almost impossible for anyone else to highjack our communications.

“Tark,” he barks out, all business. He’s the warrior with the most experience here after all. “Circle around, get to higher ground. Find a position higher up and report.”

Tark nods and silently walks back down the path until he’s around a bend and we can no longer see him. It takes a few minutes, but then he calls in.

“I’m above them now,” he says. “It’s four people altogether. They are going through the girl’s stuff. The girls are on the ground. I can’t tell if they are just unconscious…or dead.”

“How are they equipped?” Roland wants to know, before I can even truly comprehend what Tark has just said.

“Blasters,” Tark answers. “I can’t see anything else.”

“Alright,” Roland says. “Create a diversion. We’ll take them on from down here.”

“Acknowledged.”

A few moments later, and we hear rocks crashing down and men shouting.

But there is no time to wonder what Tark might have done to get their attention. We draw our blasters and follow Roland.

###

We enter the small, partially enclosed space. As the adrenaline kicks in, I notice details I might not notice otherwise. The emergency tent that is partially collapsed, like the girls started to take it apart, but never finished. The heating lamp and ration packs that are in front of it, toppled and strewn all over the place.

I see the girls on the ground. Tallin is laying on her stomach, faceplate of her helmet off to the side I can’t see. A’leola is lying on her back, without a helmet, her eyes closed. Maybe she is just unconscious.

And then there are the men. Four, like Tark said. They’re all looking at several large rocks that seem to have almost fallen on their heads. Too bad they haven’t.

And then I have no time to think anymore. Like Fenn and Roland, I pick a target. The men don’t notice us until we attack them. I take aim with both of my blasters, but the shots ricochet off the man’s _beskar_. I move in closer, switching from blasters to a knife, going for hand-to-hand.

As we caught them off guard, the man I’m fighting fumbles for a few moments, but then steadies himself and begins to fight back. He’s not much taller than I am, but burlier. This close, it is my advantage. My movements are quicker and more precise.

It’s not like he isn’t aiming, but the knife he has drawn only hits _beskar_. Until it doesn’t. He cuts a cross my side, and I feel the pain for a moment, but the adrenaline does its job and the pain is gone almost instantly. I keep on fighting, slashing at the man…or boy? Some of his movements seem well trained, others seem almost helpless.

But I’ve trained with _ba’vodu_, and I know what I have at my disposal. I dance back a few steps and aim my right vambrace at him. The cable that shoots out of it catches at the boy’s throat, curling around it. I pull, letting the automated retraction help. I pull the boy as close as possible; and as he stumbles forward, almost falling onto me, I push the knife up with my left, burying it in his side.

It’s not a deadly wound. Well, not instantly, anyway. But it’s enough to bring him down to his knees. I pull the knife back out and step behind him, bringing the knife to his throat.

“Wait!”

At first, I think it’s the boy calling out, but then I realize it’s Roland. I keep the knife at the boy’s throat.

“Don’t try anything foolish,” I hiss. “Or I will cut your throat.”

The boy nods carefully, and I allow may eyes to leave him and look up and around me.

Two of the for men are dead. I have the boy. Roland and Fenn have one of the others at gun point.

Roland takes his helmet off and to my surprise, spits on the ground right before the kneeling man.

“_Aruetii_,” he growls out. _Traitor_.

“Me?” the man says. “Why? For fighting for what I believe in?”

“And what is that?” Roland asks, his voice still harsh. “That those Vizsla traitors should rule Mandalore?”

“I don’t care who rules Mandalore,” the man answers, and I can almost hear the smirk despite the helmet. “But you didn’t understand it back then, and you don’t understand it now, Lok. _Shi dralne ven’aloryc._ Only the strongest shall rule. And Clan Kryze has ceased to be that once they started to accept those pacifists as Mandalorians. See, you are only Mandalorian if you follow the _Resol’nare_, but they don’t. They don’t wear armor, they don’t fight. They don’t even teach their children _Mando’a_ anymore. All our heritage, they treat as cheap as dirt. No, my friend, the Vizslas are not my enemies. Their rule might have been bloody, and it might be again, but they will return the true faith to Mandalore.”

The man cocks his head before he continues. “What do you think will happen once you’ve placed that little, pacifist girl on the throne, hu? That it will all go back to the way it was? Do you think any of the True Mandalorians will still be heard? That she will try to protect your way of life? No, my friend, she will not. With Satine Kryze on the throne, the New Mandalorians – pff, the word even – will rule over every aspect of our lives, and all our traditions and all our heritage will be lost.”

Roland still looks at the man, his expression neutral, but his eyes are hard.

“Well, Tarik Venn,” he says. “You’ve always been a pain in the _shebs_. And you’ve always been a traitor. Duke Argaeus should have dealt with your clan when you attacked Clan Nyc. He let you off too easy, blaming it on your father’s actions alone.”

The man, Tarik Venn, chuckles. “And yet he sent his wife to deal with us. My father died by her hand in battle, and she almost did kill me,” he says. “How Argaeus ever got that woman is beyond me. _That_ was one True Mandalorian. To bad only Tobias turned out like her. But not even Tobias will be able to stop Mandalore’s fall, try as he might. In the end, all his hard work, all his efforts to win this war, will be for nothing.”

Roland sighs and adjusts his blaster.

“Anything else you’ve got to add before you die?” he asks.

“No,” the man says, shaking his head. “I will pass into the _Manda_, and you will all remember my words when this is over.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Roland answers, and shoots. A direct shot in the man’s throat where all his armor won’t help him. For a few seconds, the body stays like it was, kneeling, before the man topples over and falls sideways onto the hard rock with a dull clank from his armor.

“_Buir_!” the boy in my grip yells and tries to move forward. Without really thinking about it, I slit the knife across his throat.

Like his father, the boy fights for air for a few moments before he sacks to the ground.

For a few moments, I cannot move. My head is full of Tarik Venn’s words.

But I don’t have time to think about what he said. Fenn moves toward Tallin and A’leola, and I force myself back to the here and now. I cut the cable from my vambrace and move over to them, too.

Fenn checks A’leola’s pulse. Once, twice. Then he carefully opens one of her eyes. The dark eye below is wide, looking unseeing into the sky. A’leola is dead.

Roland carefully turns Tallin over. Her T-visor is splintered, the face underneath covered in blood. Roland gently removes her helmet to reveal the same kind of unseeing eyes. They are both gone. Ambushed by a bunch of man from my own House.

I’ve felt hatred before, and I feel it again now. Hot and writhing, like lava inside me looking for a way to erupt. I want to scream. I want a way to bring those Venn’s back to life only to kill them again. Slowly, painfully.

There is a part inside me that tells me that I should grieve for Tallin and A’leola, that I should feel sad. But right now, I don’t have it in me. I have no more tears to shed. Only anger, red-hot and blinding.

###

I don’t remember much from the way back to camp. I don’t remember who gave Ruu the news about her dead grandniece, or who told Tallin’s parents. I don’t even remember Aunt Ida renewing the bacta on the cut at my side. And I don’t remember going to bed.

But all that must have happened, because I just woke up in Ida’s and _ba’vodu_’s tent. _Ba’vodu_ is sitting on a folding chair next to me, his arms crossed over his chest, and his bearded chin sunk to it. I sit up, and Tobias immediately wakes up.

“Hey there, _Bo’ika_,” he says.

“Hey,” I croak back, my throat dry and my voice raspy.

“Here,” _ba’vodu_ says, handing me a canteen with water, which I carefully sip, and then gulp down.

I hand the canteen back.

“You were right,” I say. “When we went hunting on my birthday. About how young people die in wars before they get to really live.”

_Ba’vodu_ sighs and nods. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

I shrug. “I don’t really know.”

Ba’vodu nods again.

“I remember the first time I had to deal with members of House Kryze in a similar way,” he says. “The feeling of disbelief and betrayal. Their reasoning was much the same back them, too.”

I frown, a thought creeping into my mind that had begun to needle away at my convictions all the way back to camp, come to think of it.

“Are they right?”

The question is out before I can stop myself. I look up at _ba’vodu_, afraid he might become angry, but he only looks troubled.

“Yes and no,” he answers, almost reluctantly. “From a purely religious point of view, they are right. To call yourself a _Mando’ad_, you have to follow the _Resol’nare_ without question. If you do not follow the tenets of our faith, your soul cannot pass into the _Manda_. An outsider cannot help it. But someone who was born into our society and rejects the _Resol’nare_ becomes _dar’manda_. No longer a Mandalorian. Soulless. And how can someone who is not Mandalorian rule Mandalore?

“But if you look at it from a more historical point of view, things change. Our faith is no longer as strict as it used to be several hundred years ago. It is why members of the Tribe would call us _dar’manda_. To them, technically, we are not Mandalorian.

“And we must also acknowledge that the New Mandalorians have greatly furthered our place in this galaxy. We are no longer seen as uncivilized hordes who try to conquer the galaxy out of bloodlust. Their ways have opened up new possibilities for Mandalore, be it trade or politics. They have been a force for progress for many centuries now, and that, too, is important for any society if it wants to continue existing.”

I nod. I understand that kind of reasoning. But there is something else.

“Do you think he might have been right about Satine, though? That she will favor the New Mandalorians above the other factions?”

_Ba’vodu_ sighs.

“Honestly, I cannot tell you,” he says. “To be honest, I have wondered about what will happen under her rule. She is so much like your mother where her convictions are concerned. Then again, should we judge her before we gave her a chance to prove herself? Your mother was a staunch pacifist and yet here you are, armed and armored. Who says Satine won’t allow for the same choice of each individual?”

I nod again.

“I hope you are right.”

“Me, too, _Bo’ika_. Me, too.”

###

** _From the journal of Tobias Kryze_ **

_Father has left for Kalevala this morning. Just a year after giving birth to Dorian, Elia has delivered a healthy girl last night. I will visit them in a few weeks. With Father on Kalevala, I have to stay in Sundari. The incidents of the last few weeks make it crucial that a member of Clan Kryze is present in the palace. First Tal Vizsla and his little insurgency, and now members of our own House. For now, those incidents are isolated, and we managed to deal with them quickly and, more important, quietly._

_Be that as it may. Tonight, I’ll take advantage of living in Sundari. Lincoln Ordo is in town, so is Sookie Cadera. We’ll head out, have dinner and a few drinks, and celebrate the arrival of the newest member of Clan Kryze: Satine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations**
> 
> _kad'la edee_ \- lit. knived jaws, my version of a Kalevalian mountain lion  
_Mando'ad_ \- a Mandalorian (lit. a child of Mandalore)


End file.
